IC-NRLF 


sSkS'l^ll 


TABLE-TALK  OF  SAMUEL  KOGEES. 
PORSONIANA. 


RECOLLECTIONS 


ftafrli-ftalfe  of  Sterawl 


TO    WHICH    IS    ADDED 


PORSONIANA. 


NEW  YORK: 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

346    &    348    BROADWAY. 

1856. 


PKEFACE. 


SAMUEL  ROGERS  was  born  at  Stoke  Newington,  30th  July, 
1763.  His  first  publication,  An  Ode  to  Superstition,  with 
some  other  Poems,  appeared  in  1786;  at  which  period  the 
coldly  classic  Mason  (then  a  veteran)  and  the  feeble  Hay- 
ley  were  perhaps  the  most  popular  of  our  living  poets : 
Cowper,  though  The  Task*  was  in  print,  had  scarcely 
won  all  his  fame;  Crabbe  had  put  forth  only  his  earlier 
pieces ;  and  Darwin  was  yet  to  come.  By  The  Pleasures 
of  Memory,  in  1792,  Mr.  Rogers  rose  to  high  reputation ; 
which  he  fully  maintained  by  his  Epistle  to  a  Friend,  tvith 
other  Poems,  in  1798.  He  gave  nothing  new  to  the  pub 
lic  till  1812,  when  he  added  Columbus^  to  a  re-impression 

*  The  second  volume  of  Cowper's  Poems,  containing  The  Task,  is 
noticed  with  high  praise  in  The  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  Dec.  1785. 
t  ^Bee  p.  152  (note)  in  the  present  volume. 


Vlll  PREFACE. 


admit  of  arrangement)  under  distinct  heads ;  and  nothing 
having  been  inserted  which  was  likely  to  hurt  the  feelings 
of  the  living. 


EDITOR. 


RECOLLECTIONS 


OF  THE 


TABLE-TALK  OF  SAMUEL  ROGERS 


I  WAS  taught  by  my  mother,  from  my  earliest  in 
fancy,  to  be  tenderly  kind  towards  the  meanest  liv 
ing  thing ;  and,  however  people  may  laugh,  I  some 
times  very  carefully  put  a  stray  gnat  or  wasp  out 
at  the  window.' — My  friend  Lord  Holland,  though  a 
kind-hearted  man,  does  not  mind  killing  flies  and 
wasps;  he  says,  "I  have  no  feeling  for  insects" — 
When  I  was  on  the  Continent  with  Richard  Sharp, 
we  one  day  observed  a  woman  amusing  her  child  by 
holding  what  we  at  first  thought  was  a  mouse  tied 
to  a  string,  with  which  a  cat  was  playing.  Sharp 
was  all  indignation  at  the  sight ;  till,  on  looking 
more  closely,  he  found  that  the  supposed  mouse  was 


2  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

a  small  rat ;  upon  which  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  I  have 
no  pity  for  rats  !  " — People  choose  to  give  the  term 
vermin  to  those  animals  that  happen  to  like  what 
they  themselves  like ;  wasps  eat  peaches,  and  they 
call  them  vermin. — I  can  hardly  persuade  myself 
that  there  is  no  compensation  in  a  future  existence 
for  the  sufferings  of  animals  in  the  present  life,* — 
for  instance,  when  I  see  a  horse  in  the  streets  un 
mercifully  flogged  by  its  brutal  driver. 


I  well  remember  one  of  the  heads  of  the  rebels 
upon  a  pole  at  Temple-Bar, — a  black  shapeless 
lump.  Another  pole  was  bare,  the  head  having 
dropt  from  it.f 


In  my  childhood,  after  doing  any  thing  wrong,  I 
used  always  to  feel  miserable  from  a  consciousness 

*  Compare  a  poem  On  the  Future  Existence  of  Brutes,  by  Miss 
Seward, — Poet.  Works,  ii.  58? — ED. 

f  "  The  last  heads  which  remained  on  the  Bar  were  those  of 
Fletcher  and  Townley.  '  Yesterday,'  says  a  news- writer  of  the  1st 
of  April,  1772,  *  one  of  the  rebels'  heads  on  the  Temple  Bar  fell 
down.  There  is  only  one  head  now  remaining.' "  P.  Cunningham's 
Handbook  of  London,  sub  Temple-Bar. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   EOGEE8.  O 

of  having  done  it :  my  parents  were  quite  aware 
of  this,  and  therefore  seldom  reproved  me  for  a 
fault, — leaving  me  to  reprove  myself. 

When  I  was  about  thirteen,  my  father  and  mo 
ther  gave  a  great  children's  ball,  at  which  many 
grown-up  folks  were  also  present.  I  was  dancing 
a  minuet  with  a  pretty  little  girl ;  and  at  the  mo 
ment  when  I  ought  to  have  put  on  my  hat  and  given 
both  hands  to  my  partner,  I  threw  the  hat  among 
the  young  ladies  who  were  sitting  on  benches,  and 
so  produced  great  surprise  and  confusion  in  the 
room.  This  strange  feat  was  occasioned  by  my  sud 
denly  recollecting  a  story  of  some  gallant  youth 
who  had  signalized  himself  in  the  same  way. 


In  my  boyhood,  my  father  one  day  called  me 
and  my  brothers  into  his  room,  and  asked  us  each 
what  professions  we  wished  to  follow.  When  my 
turn  came,  I  said  (to  my  father's  annoyance)  that 
I  should  like  "to  be  a  preacher;"  for  it  was  then 
the  height  of  my  ambition  to  figure  in  a  pulpit ; — 
I  thought  there  was  nothing  on  earth  so  grand. 
This  predilection,  I  believe,  was  occasioned  chiefly 


4:  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

by  the  admiration  I  felt  for  Dr.  Price  and  for  his 
preaching.  He  was  our  neighbour  (at  ISTewington 
Green),  and  would  often  drop  in,  to  spend  the 
evening  with  us,  in  his  dressing-gown :  he  would 
talk,  and  read  the  Bible,  to  us,  till  he  sent  us  to  bed 
in  a  frame  of  mind  as  heavenly  as  his  own.  He 
lived  much  in  the  society  of  Lord  Lansdowne  and 
other  people  of  rank;  and  his  manners  were  ex 
tremely  polished.  In  the  pulpit  he  was  great  in 
deed, — making  his  hearers  forget  the  preacher  and 
think  only  of  the  subject.  The  passage  "  On  Vir 
tue,"  cited  from  Price  in  Enfi eld's  Speaker ',  is  a  very 
favourite  one  with  me,  though  probably  it  is  quite 
unknown  to  readers  of  the  present  day. 

["IN    PRAISE   OF   VIRTUE.      . 

"VIRTUE  is  of  intrinsic  value  and  good  desert, 
and  of  indispensable  obligation ;  not  the  creature  of 
will,  but  necessary  and  immutable  ;  not  local  or  tem 
porary,  but  of  equal  extent  and  antiquity  with  the 
DIVINE  MIND  ;  not  a  mode  of  sensation,  but  ever 
lasting  TRUTH;  not  dependent  on  power,  but  the 
guide  of  all  power.  VIRTUE  is  the  foundation  of 
honour  and  esteem,  and  the  source  of  all  beauty, 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  5 

order,  and  happiness  in  nature.  It  is  what  confers 
value  011  all  the  other  endowments  and  qualities  of 
a  reasonable  being,  to  which  they  ought  to  be  ab 
solutely  subservient,  and  without  which,  the  more 
eminent  they  are,  the  more  hideous  deformities  and 
the  greater  curses  they  become.  The  use  of  it  is 
not  confined  to  any  one  stage  of  our  existence,  or 
to  any  particular  situation  we  can  be  in,  but  reaches 
through  all  the  periods  and  circumstances  of  our 
being. — Many  of  the  endowments  and  talents  we 
now  possess,  and  of  which  we  are  too  apt  to  be 
proud,  will  cease  entirely  with  the  present  state; 
but  this  will  be  our  ornament  and  dignity  in  every 
future  state  to  which  we  may  be  removed.  Beauty 
and  wit  will  die,  learning  will  vanish  away,  and  all 
the  arts  of  life  be  soon  forgot ;  but  virtue  will  re 
main  for  ever.  This  unites  us  to  the  whole  rational 
creation,  and  fits  us  for  conversing  with  any  order 
of  superior  natures,  and  for  a  place  in  any  part  of 
God's  works.  It  procures  us  the  approbation  and 
love  of  all  wise  and  good  beings,  and  renders  them 
our  allies  and  friends. — But  what  is  of  unspeakably 
greater  consequence  is,  that  it  makes  God  our  friend, 
assimilates  and  unites  our  minds  to  his,  and  engages 


O  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

his  almighty  power  in  our  defence. — Superior  beings 
of  all  ranks  are  bound  by  it  no  less  than  ourselves. 
It  has  the  same  authority  in  all  worlds  that  it  has 
in  this.  The  further  any  being  is  advanced  in  ex 
cellence  and  perfection,  the  greater  is  his  attach 
ment  to  it,  and  the  more  lie  is  under  its  influence. — 
To  say  no  more ;  it  is  the  LAW  of  the  whole  uni 
verse  ;  it  stands  first  in  the  estimation  of  the  Deity ; 
its  original  is  his  nature;  and  it  is  the  very  object 
that  makes  him  lovely. 

"  Such  is  the  importance  of  virtue. — Of  what 
consequence,  therefore,  is  it  that  we  practise  it  !— 
There  is  no  argument  or  motive  which  is  at  all  fitted 
to  influence  a  reasonable  mind,  which  does  not  call 
us  to  this.  One  virtuous  disposition  of  soul  is  pre 
ferable  to  the  greatest  natural  accomplishments  and 
abilities,  and  of  more  value  than  all  the  treasures 
of  the  world. — If  you  are  wise,  then,  study  virtue, 
and  contemn  every  thing  that  can  come  in  compe 
tition  with  it.  Remember,  that  nothing  else  de 
serves  one  anxious  thought  or  wish.  Remember, 
that  this  alone  is  honour,  glory,  wealth  and  happi 
ness.  Secure  this,  and  you  secure  every  thing, 
lose  this,  and  all  is  lost."] 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  7 

My  father  belonged  originally  to  the  Church  of 
England;  but,  soon  after  his  marriage  with  my 
mother  (a  very  handsome  and  very  amiable  woman), 
he  withdrew  from  it  at  her  persuasion,  and  became 
one  of  Dr.  Price's  hearers. 


When  I  was  a  school-boy,  I  wore,  like  other 
school-boys,  a  cocked  hat ; — we  used  to  run  about 
the  fields,  chasing  butterflies,  in  cocked  hats.  Af 
ter  growing  up,  I  have  walked  through  St.  Paul's 
Churchyard  in  a  cocked  hat. 


>  I  saw  Garrick  act  only  once, — the  part  of  Ranger 
in  The  Suspicious  Husband.  I  remember  that  there 
was  a  great  crowd,  and  that  we  waited  long  in  a 
dark  passage  of  the  theatre,  on  our  way  to  the  pit. 
I  was  then  a  little  boy.  My  father  had  promised  to 
take  me  to  see  Garrick  in  Lear ;  but  a  fit  of  the 
mumps  kept  me  at  home. 

Before  his  going  abroad,  Garrick's  attractions 
had  much  decreased ;  Sir  "William  Weller  Pepys  said 
that  the  pit  was  often  almost  empty.  But  on  his 


8  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

return  to  England,  people  were  mad  about  seeing 
him ;  and  Sir  George  Beaumont  and  several  others 
used  frequently  to  get  admission  into  the  pit,  before 
the  doors  were  opened  to  the  public,  by  means  of 
bribing  the  attendants,  who  bade  them  "  be  sure,  as 
soon  as  the  crowd  rushed  in,  to  pretend  to  be  in  a 
great  heat,  and  to  wipe  their  faces  as  if  they  had 
just  been  struggling  for  entrance." 

Jack  Bannister  told  me,  that  one  night  he  was 
behind  the  scenes  of  the  theatre  when  Garrick  was 
playing  Lear ;  and  that  the  tones  in  which  Garrick 
uttered  the  words,  "  O  fool,  I  shall  go  mad !  "  *  ab 
solutely  thrilled  him. 

Garrick  used  to  pay  an  annual  visit  to  Lord  Spen 
cer  at  Althorp  ;  where,  after  tea,  he  generally  enter 
tained  the  company  by  reading  scenes  from  Shake 
speare.     Thomas  Grenville,f  who  met  him  there, 
told  me  that  Garrick  would  steal  anxious  glances  at 

*  "You  think  ni  weep; 

No,  m  not  weep. 

1  have  full  cause  of  weeping ;  but  this  heart 
•       Shall  hreak  into  a  hundred  thousand  flaws 
Or  ere  I'll  weep. — Ofool,  I  shall  go  mad!  " 

King  Lear,  act.  ii.  sc.  4. — ED. 

t  The  Right  Honourable  T.  G.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  9 

the  faces  of  his  audience,  to  perceive  what  eifect  his 
reading  produced ;  that,  one  night,  Garrick  observed 
a  lady  listening  to  him  very  attentively,  and  yet 
never  moving  a  muscle  of  her  countenance ;  and, 
that,  speaking  of  her  next  day,  he  said,  "  She  seems 
a  very  worthy  person  ;  but  I  hope  that — that — that 
she  won't  be  present  at  my  reading  to-night." — Ano 
ther  evening  at  Althorp,  when  Garrick  was  about 
to  exhibit  some  particular  stage-effect  of  which  they 
had  been  talking,  a  young  gentleman  got  up  and 
placed  the  candles  upon  the  floor,  that  the  light 
might  be  thrown  on  his  face  as  from  the  lamps  in 
the  theatre.  Garrick,  displeased  at  his  officious- 
ness,  immediately  sat  down  again. 


My  friend  Maltby*  and  I,  when  we  were  very 
young  men,  had  a  strong  desire  to  see  Dr.  Johnson  ; 
and  we  determined  to  call  upon  him  and  introduce 
ourselves.  We  accordingly  proceeded  to  his  house 
in  Bolt  Court ;  and  I  had  my  hand  on  the  knocker, 
when  our  courage  failed  us,  and  we  retreated.  Many 
years  afterwards,  I  mentioned  this  circumstance  to 

*  See  notice  at  the  commencement  of  the  Porsoniana  in  this  vol. 
—ED. 

1* 


10  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

Bos  well,  who  said,  "  What  a  pity  that  you  did  not 
go  boldly  in  !  he  would  have  received  you  with  all 
kindness." 

Dr.  Johnson  said  to  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  "  My 
other  works  are  wine  and  water ;  but  my  Rambler 
is  pure  wine."  The  world  now  thinks  differently. 

Lady  Spencer  recollected  Johnson  well,  as  she 
used  to  see  him  often  in  her  girlhood.  Her  mother, 
Lady  Lucan,  would  say,  "  Nobody  dines  with  us 
to-day  ;  therefore,  child,  we'll  go  and  get  Dr.  John 
son."  So  they  would  drive  to  Bolt  Court,  and  bring 
the  doctor  home  with  them. 


At  the  sale  of  Dr.  Johnson's  books,  I  met  Gene 
ral  Oglethorpe,  then  very,  very  old,  the  flesh  of  his 
face  looking  like  parchment.  He  amused  us  young 
sters  by  talking  of  the  alterations  that  had  been 
made  in  London  and  of  the  great  additions  it  had 
received  within  his  recollection.  He  said  that  he 
had  shot  snipes  in  Conduit-Street ! 

By  the  by,  General  Fitzpatrick  remembered  the 
time  when  St.  James's  Street  used  to  be  crowded 
with  the  carriages  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  who 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  11 

were  walking  in  the  Mall, — the  ladies  with  their 
heads  in  full  dress,  and  the  gentlemen  carrying  their 
hats  under  their  arms.  The  proprietors  of  Eanelagh 
and  Vauxhall  used  to  send  decoy-ducks  among  them, 
that  is,  persons  attired  in  the  height  of  fashion,  who 
every  now  and  then  would  exclaim  in  a  very  audi 
ble  tone,  "  "What  charming  weather  for  Eanelagh  " 
or  "  for  Vauxhall !  " 

Eanelagh  was  a  very  pleasing  place  of  amuse 
ment.  There  persons  of  inferior  rank  mingled  with 
the  highest  nobility  of  Britain.  All  was  so  orderly 
and  still,  that  you  could  hear  the  whishing  sound  of 
the  ladies'  trains,  as  the  immense  assembly  walked 
round  and  round  the  room.  If  you  chose,  you  might 
have  tea,  which  was  served  up  in  the  neatest  equi 
page  possible.  The  price  of  admission  was  half-a- 
crown.  People  generally  went  to  Eanelagh  between 
nine  and  ten  o'clock. 


My  first  attempt  at  authorship  was  a  series  of 
papers  headed  The  Scribbler,  *  which  appeared  in 

*  The  Scribbler   extends   to  eight  Numbers — in    The   Gentleman's 
Magazine  for  1781,  pp.  68,  119,  168,  218,  259,  306,  355,  405  (mis- 


12  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

The  Gentleman's  Magazine, — for  what  year  I  forget. 
I  have  never  looked  at  them  since  :  I  daresay  they 
are  sad  trash. 

["THE  SCRIBBLER.     NO.  iv. 
"  0  Tempora  !  0  Mores  ! 

"The  degeneracy  of  the  age  has  ever  been  the 
favourite  theme  of  declamation :  yet,  when  the  sub 
ject  has  been  attentively  examined,  the  Moderns 
will  not  appear  inferior  to  the  Ancients. 

"  Greece  and  Rome  shine  with  peculiar  lustre  in 
the  page  of  history.  The  former  contained  several 
states,  the  principal  of  which  were  Lacedsemon  and 
Athens. 

"  Devoted  entirely  to  war,  the  Spartans  were 
brave,  frugal,  and  temperate ;  but  divested  of  every 
sentiment  of  humanity.  The  reduction  of  Athens 
and  the  capture  of  Cadmea,  the  execution  of  Agis 
and  the  barbarity  exercised  on  the  Helotes,  reflect 
indelible  disgrace  on  the  annals  of  Lacedsemon. 

paged  409),  (several  of  the  references  to  which  in  The  General  Index 
to  that  work  are  wrong).  The  first  Numher  is  signed  "  S***** 
R*****."  These  juvenile  essays  are  on  various  suhjects,  and  quite 
up  to  the  standard  of  the  periodical  writing  of  the  time.  I  have  given, 
as  a  curiosity,  No.  4  entire. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  13 

"  With  a  delicate  taste  and  a  fine  imagination, 
the  Athenians  were -vain,  inconstant,  and  irresolute. 
If -no  nation  ever  produced  more  great  men,  no 
nation  ever  Behaved  to  them  with  such  ingratitude. 
Miltiades  died  in  prison ;  *Aristides,  Themistocles, 
and  Cimon,  were  banished ;  St>crates  ancl  Ehocion 
were  condemned  to  suffer  death.  The  rest  of  Greece 
does  not  present  a  scene  more  honourable  to  human 
nature. 

"  Individuals  appeared  among  the  Romans  who 
merit  the  highest  encomiums.  Their  national  char 
acter,  however,  was  haughty  and  oppressive.  The 
destruction  of  Carthage  and  Nnmaatia,  the  murder 
of  the  Gracchi,  their  injustice  to  the  Aricians  and 
the  Ardeates,  their  triumphs  and  their  gladiatorial 
combats,  sully  the  glory  they  acquired  from  their 
patriotism,  moderation,  and  valour. 

"  Such  were  the  Ancients ;  while  they  cultivated 
the  severer,  they  neglected  the  milder  virtues  ;  and 
were  more  ambitious  of  exciting  the  admiration  than 
of  deserving  the  esteem  of  posterity. 

"Examples  of  heroic  virtue  cannot  occur  so 
frequently  among  the  Moderns  as  the  Ancients,  from 
the  nature  of  their  political  institutions ;  yet  Eng- 


14  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

land,  Holland,  and  Switzerland,  are  entitled  to 
greater  applause  than  the  celebrated  republics  ot 
antiquity. 

"  Generosity,  sincerity,  and  a  love  of  indepen 
dence,  are  the  characteristics  of  the  English.  ~No 
nation  had  ever  juster  ideas  of  liberty,  or  fixed  it 
on  a  firmer  basis.  They  have  concerted  innumera 
ble  establishments  in  favour  of  the  indigent,  and  have 
even  frequently  raised  subscriptions  for  the  relief 
of  their  enemies,  when  reduced  to  captivity.  Their 
conduct  indeed  in  India  has  been  excessively  unjust. 
E"or  can  this  appear  surprising  to  those  who  reflect, 
that  India  is  under  the  direction  of  a  commercial 
society,  conducted  by  its  members  in  -  a  distant 
country ;  and  that  its  climate  is  fatal  to  the  consti 
tutions  of  the  Europeans,  who  visit  it  only  with  the 
design  of  suddenly  amassing  wealth,  and  are  anxious 
to  return  as  soon  as  that  design  is  accomplished. 

"  Holland,  however  circumscribed  in  its  extent, 
has  acquired  liberty  by  a  war  of  above  half  a  cen 
tury,  and  risen  to  the  highest  rank  among  the  powers 
of  Europe.  Though  the  Dutch  are  universally  en 
gaged  in  lucrative  pursuits,  neither  their  sentiments 
are  contracted,  nor  their  ideas  confined.  They  have 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  15 

erected  edifices  in  which  age  may  repose,  and  sick 
ness  be  relieved ;  and  have  often  liberally  contri 
buted  to  the  support  of  the  persecuted.  The  de 
struction  of  the  De Witts  was  entirely  the  result  of 
a  momentary  passion. 

"  Sheltered  within  the  fastnesses  of  their  native 
mountains,  the  Swiss  look  down  with  security  on  the 
revolutions  around  them.  Though  never  actuated 
with  the  spirit  of  conquest,  they  have  exhibited  acts 
of  the  most  exalted  heroism  in  defence  of  their 
country.  Industrious,  yet  liberal ;  simple,  yet  en 
lightened  ;  their  taste  is  not  vitiated,  nor  their  man 
ners  corrupted,  by  the  refinements  of  luxury. 

"  That  the  Moderns  are  not  inferior  to  the  An 
cients  in  virtue,  is  obvious  therefore  on  a  review  of 
the1  nations  that  have  acted  with  most  honour  in  the 
grand  theatre  of  the  world.  The  present  mode  of 
conducting  war,  not  to  mention  any  other  instance, 
is  the  most  humane  and  judicious  that  has  yet  been 
adopted. 

"  Let  us  not  then  depreciate  the  Moderns.  Let 
us  admire,  let  us  imitate,  what  is  laudable  in  anti 
quity,  but  be  just  to  the  merits  of  our  cotempora- 
ries."  ] 


16  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

The  first  poetry  I  published  was  the  Ode  to  Su 
perstition,  in  1786.  I  wrote  it  while  I  was  in  my 
teens,  and  afterwards  touched  it  up.*  I  paid  down 
to  the  publisher  thirty  pounds  to  insure  him  from 
being  a  loser  by  it.  At  the  end  of  four  years,  I  found 
that  he  had  sold  about  twenty  copies.  However,  1 
was  consoled  by  reading  in  a  critique  on  the  Ode 
that  I  was  "  an  able  writer,"  or  some  such  expres 
sion. — The  short  copy  of  verses  entitled  Captivity 
was  also  composed  when  I  was  a  very  young  man. 
It  was  a  favourite  with  liookham  Frere,  who  said 
that  it  resembled  a  Greek  epigram. 

My  lines  To  the  Gnat,  which  some  of  the  re 
viewers  laughed  at,  were  composed  in  consequence 
of  my  sufferings  from  the  attacks  of  that  insect 
while  I  lived  at  Newington  Green.  My  eyes  used  to 
be  absolutely  swollen  up  with  gnat-bites.  I  awoke 
one  morning  in  that  condition  when  I  was  engaged 
to  spend  the  day  at  Streatham  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Piozzi,  to  meet  Miss  Farren  (afterwards  Lady  Derby) ; 
and  it  was  only  by  the  application  of  laudanum  to 
my  wounds  that  I  was  enabled  to  keep  my  engage- 

*  According  to  a  note  in  Mr.  R.'s  collected  poems,  it  was  "  writ 
ten  in  1785."— ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGEKS.  17 

ment.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  elegance  and  re 
finement  of  Miss  Farren's  appearance  and  manners. 

People  have  taken  the  trouble  to  write  my  Life 
more  than  once  ;  and  strange  assertions  they  have 
made  both  about  myself  and  my  works.  In  one 
biographical  account  it  is  stated  that  I  submitted 
The  Pleasures  of  Memory  in  manuscript  to  the  crit 
ical  revision  of  Richard  Sharp :  now,  when  that 
poem  was  first  published,  I  had  not  yet  formed  an 
acquaintance  with  Sharp  (who  was  introduced  to 
me  by  the  oldest  of  my  friends,  Maltby*).  The 
beautiful  lines,  "  Pleasures  of  Memory ! — oh,  su 
premely  blest,"  &c.,  which  I  have  inserted  in  a  note 
on  Part  Second,  were  composed  by  a  Mr.  Soarne,  f 
who  died  in  India  in  1803,  at  which  time  he  was  a 
lieutenant  in  the  dragoons.  I  believe  that  he  de 
stroyed  himself.  I  had  heard  that  the  lines  were  in 
a  certain  newspaper,  and  went  to  Peel's  Coffee-house 
to  see  that  paper :  there  I  first  read  them,  and  there 
I  transcribed  them. 

On  the  publication  of  The  Pleasures  of  Memory ', 
I  sent  a  copy  to  Mason,  who  never  acknowledged  it. 

*  See  notice  at  the  commencement  of  the  Porsoniana  in  this  vol. 

—ED. 

t  See  The  Correspondence  of  Sir  T.  Hammer,  &c.  p.  481. — ED. 


18  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

I  learned,  however,  from  Gilpin,  and  to  my  great 
satisfaction,  that  Mason,  in  a  letter  to  him,  had 
spoken  well  of  it ; — he  pronounced  it  to  be  very 
different  in  style  from  the  poetry  of  the  day. 

During  my  whole  life  I  have  borne  in.  mind  the 
speech  of  a  woman  to  Philip  of  Macedon ;  "  I  appeal 
from  Philip  drunk  to  Philip  sober."  After  writing 
any  thing  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  and 
being  greatly  pleased  with  it,  I  have  always  put  it 
by  for  a  day  or  two ;  and  then  carefully  considering 
it  in  every  possible  light,  I  have  altered  it  to  the  best 
of  my  judgment ;  thus  appealing  from  myself  drunk 
to  myself  sober.  I  was  engaged  on  The  Pleasures 
of  Memory  for  nine  years ;  on  Human  Life  for 
nearly  the  same  space  of  time ;  and  Italy  was  not 
completed  in  less  than  sixteen  years.* 


I  was  present  when  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  delivered 

*  I  was  with  Mr.  Rogers  when  he  tore  to  pieces,  and  threw  into 
the  fire,  a  manuscript  operatic  drama,  The  Vintage  of  Burgundy, 
which  he  had  written  early  in  life.  He  told  me  that  he  offered  it 
to  a  manager,  who  said,  "  I  will  hring  it  on  the  stage,  if  you  are 
determined  to  have  it  acted ;  but  it  will  certainly  be  damned"  One  or 
two  songs,  which  now  appear  among  his  poems,  formed  parts  of  that 
drama. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  19 

his  last  lecture  at  the  Royal  Academy.  On  entering 
the  room,  I  found  that  a  semicircle  of  chairs,  im 
mediately  in  front  of  the  pulpit,  was  reserved  for 
persons  of  distinction,  being  labelled  "  Mr.  Burke," 
"Mr.  Boswell,"  &c.  &c. ;  and  I,  with  other  young 
men,  was  forced  to  station  myself  a  good  way  off. 
During  the  lecture,  a  great  crash  was  heard ;  and 
the  company,  fearing  that  the  building  was  about 
to  come  down,  rushed  towards  the  door.  Presently, 
however,  it  appeared  that  there  was  110  cause  for 
alarm;*  and  they  endeavoured  to  resume  their 
places ;  but,  in  consequence  of  the  confusion,  the  re 
served  seats  were  now  occupied  by  those  who  could 
first  get  into  them  :  and  I,  pressing  forwards,  secured 
one  of  them.  Sir  Joshua  concluded  the  lecture  by 
saying,  with  great  emotion,  "  And  I  should  desire 
that  the  last  words  which  I  should  pronounce  in  this 
Academy  and  from  this  place  might  be  the  name  of— 
Michael  Angelo."  As  he  descended  from  the  ros 
trum,  Burke  went  up  to  him,  took  his  hand,  and  said, 

*  There  was  cause  for  alarm.  "  On  an  examination  of  the  floor 
afterwards,  it  was  found  that  one  of  the  beams  for  its  support  had 
actually  given  way  from  the  great  weight  of  the  assembly  of  persons 
who  pressed  upon  it,  and  probably  from  a  flaw  also  in  the  wood." 
Northcote's  Life  of  Reynolds,  ii.  263,  ed.  1819.— ED. 


20  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

"  The  Angel  ended,  and  in  Adam's  ear 
So  charming  left  his  voice,  that  he  a  while 
Thought  him  still  speaking,  still  stood  fix'd  to  hear."  * 

What  a  quantity  of  snuff  Sir  Joshua  took !  I 
once  saw  him  at  an  Academy-dinner,  when  his  waist 
coat  was  absolutely  powdered  with  it. 

Sir  Joshua  was  always  thinking  of  his  art.  He 
was  one  day  walking  with  Dr.  Lawrence  near  Bea- 
consfield,  when  they  met  a  beautiful  little  peasant- 
boy.  Sir  Joshua,  after  looking  earnestly  at  the 
child,  exclaimed,  "  I  must  go  home  and  deepen  the 
colouring  of  my  Infant  Hercides"  The  boy  was  a 
good  deal  sun-burnt. 

Count  d'Adhemar  was  the  original  purchaser  of 
Sir  Joshua's  Muscipula.  Sir  Joshua,  who  fancied 
that  he  was  bargaining  for  a  different  and  less  im 
portant  picture,  told  him  that  the  price  was  fifty 
guineas ;  and  on  discovering  the  mistake,  allowed 
him  to  have  Muscipula  for  that  sum. — Fox  had 
been  anxious  to  possess  Muscipula  when  it  was  first 
painted ;  and  he  bought  it  at  the  Ambassador's  sale 
for  (I  believe)  fifty  guineas.  It  is  now  at  St.  Anne's 

*  Par.  Lost,  b.  viii.  1.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  21 

Hill.  It  would  fetch,  at  the  present  day,  a  thousand 
guineas. 

The  morning  of  the  day  on  which  Sir  Joshua's 
Puck  was  to  be  sold,  Lord  Farnborough  and  Dance 
the  painter  breakfasted  with  me ;  and  we  went  to 
the  sale  together.  When  Puck  was  put  up,  it  ex 
cited  such  admiration,  that  there  was  a  general 
clapping  of  hands :  yet  it  was  knocked  down  to  me 
at  a  comparatively  trifling  price.*  I  walked  home 
from  the  sale,  a  man  carrying  Puck  before  me ;  and 
so  well  was  the  picture  known,  that  more  than  one 
person,  as  they  passed  us  in  the  street,  called  out, 
"There  it  is!" 

I  like  JSTorthcote's  Life  of  Sir  Joshua  ;f  it  may 

*  "When  the  Shakespeare  Gallery  was  disposed  of  by  lottery, 
the  building  itself,  and  many  of  the  capital  pictures,  formed  the  prin 
cipal  prize,  which  was  won  by  Mr.  Tassie  of  Leicester  Square,  who, 
after  showing  it  a  few  months,  divided  the  property  into  several  lots, 
and  sold  them  by  auction.  In  that  sale  the  pictures  of  Sir  Joshua 
produced  the  following  sums,  Avhich  are  here  contrasted  with  the  prices 
paid  to  Sir  Joshua  by  Mr.  Boydell : 

Prices  paid   to   Sir  Joshua   by         Prices  for  which  they  sold   by 
Mr.  Boydell.  auction. 

#  #  •*  #  -:>.*  *  *  * 

Puck    or    Robin    Good    Fellow, 

100  guineas.  £215  5s  0." 

Edwards's  Anecdotes  of  Painters,  &c.  p.  204. 
t  Northcote  assured  the  writer  of  these  pages  that  Laird,  not 


2t2i  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

be  depended  upon  for  facts ;  and,  of  course,  North- 
cote  was  a  very  competent  critic  in  painting. 

I  can  hardly  believe  what  was  told  me  long  ago 
by  a  gentleman  living  in  the  Temple,  who,  however, 
assured  me  that  it  was  fact.  He  happened  to  be 
passing  by  Sir  Joshua's  house  in  Leicester  Square, 
when  he  saw  a  poor  girl  seated  on  the  steps  and 
crying  bitterly.  He  asked  what  was  the  matter  ; 
and  she  replied  that  she  was  crying  "because  the 
one  shilling  which  she  had  received  from  Sir  Joshua 
for  sitting  to  him  as  a  model,  had  proved  to  be  a 
bad  one,  and  he  would  not  give  her  another." 


I  recollect  when  it  was  still  the  fashion  for  gen- 
tlemen  to  wear  swords.  I  have  seen  Haydn  play 
at  a  concert  in  a  tie-wig,  with  a  sword  at  his  side. 


The  head-dresses  of  the  ladies,  during  my  youth, 
were  of  a  truly  preposterous  size.     I  have  gone  to 

himself,  procured  the  greater  part  of  the  materials  for  the  Life  of  Sir 
Joshua,  and  put  them  together ;  his  own  part  was  small,  and  confined 
chiefly  to  criticism  on  art  and  artists."  Prior's  Life  of  Goldsmith,  vol. 
ii.  572.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  23 

Ranelagh  in  a  coach  with  a  lady  who  was  obliged 
to  sit  upon  a  stool  placed  in  the  bottom  of  the 
coach,  the  height  of  her  head-dress  not  allowing  her 
to  occupy  the  regular  seat. 

Their  tight  lacing  was  equally  absurd.  Lady 
Crewe  told  me,  that,  on  returning  home  from  Rane- 
lagh,  she  has  rushed  up  to  her  bed-room,  and  de 
sired  her  maid  to  cut  her  laces  without  a  moment's 
delay,  for  fear  she  should  faint. 


Dr.  Fordyce  sometimes  drank  a  good  deal  at 
dinner.  He  was  summoned  one  evening  to  see  a 
lady  patient,  when  he  was  more  than  half-seas-over, 
and  conscious  that  he  was  so.  Feeling  her  pulse, 
and  finding  himself  unable  to  count  its  beats,  he 
muttered,  "Drunk,  by  God!  "  isText  morning,  re 
collecting  the  circumstance,  he  was  greatly  vexed : 
and  just  as  he  was  thinking  what  explanation  of  his 
behaviour  he  should  offer  to  the  lady,  a  letter  from 
her  was  put  into  his  hand.  "She  too  well  knew," 
said  the  letter,  "  that  he  had  discovered  the  unfor 
tunate  condition  in  which  she  was  when  he  last 
visited  her ;  and  she  entreated  him  to  keep  the  mat- 


24:  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

ter  secret  in  consideration  of  the  enclosed  (a  hun 
dred-pound  bank-note)." 


I  have  several  times  talked  to  a  very  aged  boat 
man  on  the  Thames,  who  recollected  "Mr.  Alex 
ander  Pope."  This  boatman,  when  a  lad,  had  fre 
quently  assisted  his  father  in  rowing  Pope  up  and 
down  the  river.  On  such  occasions  Pope  generally 
sat  in  a  sedan-chair. 

When  I  first  began  to  publish,  I  got  acquainted 
with  an  elderly  person  named  Lawless,*  shopman  of 
Messrs.  Cadell  and  Davies  the  booksellers.  Lawless 
told  me,  that  he  was  once  walking  through  Twick 
enham,  accompanied  by  a  friend,  and  a  little  boy  the 
son  of  that  friend.  On  the  approach  of  a  very  dimi 
nutive,  misshapen,  and  shabbily-dressed  person,  the 
child  drew  back  half-afraid.  "Don't  be  alarmed," 

*  This  Lawless  (as  I  was  informed  by  Mr.  Maltby — see  notice 
prefixed  to  the  Porsoniana,  in  this  vol.)  used  daily  to  eat  his  dinner  in 
the  shop,  placing  a  large  folio  before  him  so  as  to  conceal  his  plate. 
Often,  to  his  great  annoyance,  just  as  he  was  beginning  his  meal, 
Gibbon  would  drop  in,  and  ask  a  variety  of  questions  about  books. 
One  day,  Lawless,  out  of  all  patience  at  the  interruption,  exclaimed 
from  behind  the  folio,  "  Mr.  Gibbon,  I'm  at  dinner,  and  can't  answer 
any  questions  till  I  have  finished  it." — ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  25 

said  Lawless;  "  it  is  only  a  poor  man." — "  A  poor 
man !  "  cried  his  friend ;  "  why,  that  is  Mr.  Alexan 
der  Pope." 

Lawless  also  told  me  that  he  had  been  intimate 
with  the  waiting-maid  of  Pope's  beloved  Martha 
Blount.  According  to  the  maid's  account,  her  mis 
tress  was  one  of  the  best  natured  and  kindest  per 
sons  possible :  she  would  take  her  out  in  the  car 
riage  to  see  sights,  &c.  &c. 

Long  ago,  when  Pope's  villa  was  for  sale,  I  had 
a  great  wish  to  buy  it ;  but  I  apprehended  that  it 
would  fetch  a  much  larger  sum  than  it  did ;  and 
moreover  I  dreaded  the  epigrams,  &c.,  which  would 
certainly  have  been  levelled  at  me,  if  it  had  become 
mine. — The  other  day,  when  the  villa  was  finally 
dismantled,  I  was  anxious  that  the  obelisk  erected 
by  Pope  to  his  mother's  memory  should  be  placed 
in  the  Gardens  at  Hampton  Court,  and  I  offered  to 
contribute  my  mite  for  that  purpose  : — but,  no ! — 
and  the  obelisk  is  now  at  Gopsall,  Lord  Howe's  seat 
in  Leicestershire. 

There  are  at  Lord  Bathurst's  a  good  many  un 
published  letters  of  Pope,  Bolingbroke,  &c.,  which  I 
have  turned  over.  In  one  of  them  Bolingbroke  says 


26  EECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

that  he  has  no  desire  to  "  wrestle  with  a  chimney 
sweeper,"  that  is,  Warburton. — Lady  Bathurst  pro 
mised  to  send  me  some  of  Pope's  letters ;  instead  of 
which,  she  sent  me  a  packet  of  letters  from  Queen 
Mary  to  King  William,  in  which  he  is  addressed  as 
her  "  dear  husb^i."  * 

In  Pope's  noble  lines  To  the  Earl  of  Oxford, 
prefixed  to  ParneWs  Poems,  there  is  an  impropriety 
which  was  forced  upon  the  poet  by  the  rhyme  : 

The  Muse  attends  thee  to  thy  silent  shade  ; 
******* 

She  waits,  or  to  the  scaffold  or  the  cell, 

When  the  last  lingering  friend  has  bid  farewell." 

It  should  be,  of  course,  "  or  to  the  cell  or  the  scaf 
fold." 

*  "  Lord  Bathurst  has  lent  me  a  very  entertaining  collection  of 
original  letters,  from  Pope,  Bolingbroke,  Swift,  Queen  Mary,  &c., 
and  has  promised  to  make  me  a  present  of  any  thing  I  like  out  of 
them.  I  cannot  say  these  communications  have  given  me  a  very 
great  idea  of  Queen  Mary's  head;  but  her  heart,  I  am  persuaded, 
was  a  very  good  one.  The  defect  must  have  been  in  her  educa 
tion;  for  such  spelling  and  such  English  I  never  saw;  romantic 
and  childish  too,  as  to  sentiment.  My  reverence  for  her  many 
virtues  leads  me  to  hope  she  was  very  young  when  she  wrote 
them."  Letter  of  Hannah  More,  in  her  Memoirs,  &c.  vol.  i.  358, 
third  ed.—ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  27 

Pope  has  sometimes  a  beautiful  line  rhyming 
to  a  very  indifferent  one.  For  instance,  in  the 
Epistle  to  Jervas, 

"  Alas,  how  little  from  the  grave  we  claim  ! 
Thou  but  preserv'st  a  face,  and  I  a  name  : " 

the  latter  line  is  very  good :  in  the  former,  "  claim  " 
is  forced  and  bad ;  it  should  have  been  "  save  "  or 
"  preserve."  Again,  in  the  Elegy  to  the  Memory  of 
an  Unfortunate  Lady, 

"  A  heap  of  dust  alone  remains  of  thee ; 
'Tis  all  thou  art,  and  all  the  proud  shall  be," 

the  former  line  is  touching,  the  latter  bad. 

What  a  charming  line  is  that  in  The  Rape  of  the 
Lock! 

"  If  to  her  share  some  female  errors  fall, 
Look  on  her  face,  and  you?ll  forget  them  all." 

These  verses  in  his  Imitation  of  the  Second 
Epistle  of  the  /Second  Book  of  Horace  (verses  which 
Lord  Holland  is  so  fond  of  hearing  me  repeat)  are 
as  good  as  any  in  Horace  himself ; 

"  Years  following  years,  steal  something  every  day, 
At  last  they  steal  us  from  ourselves  away ; 


28  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

In  one  our  frolics,  one  amusements  end, 
In  one  a  mistress  drops,  in  one  a  friend." 

But  perhaps  the  best  line  Pope  ever  wrote  is  in 
his  Imitation  of  the  First  Satire  of  the  Second  Book, 
of  Horace  y 

"  Bare  the  mean  heart  that  lurks  heneath  a  star." 

The  want  of  pauses  is  the  main  blemish  in 
Pope's  versification:  I  can't  recollect  at  this  mo 
ment  any  pause  he  has,  except  that  in  his  fine  Pro 
logue  to  Goto  ; 

"  The  triumph  ceased  ;  tears  gushed  from  ev'ry  eye  ; 
The  world's  great  victor  pass'd  unheeded  by." 

People  are  now  so  fond  of  the  obscure  in  poetry, 
that  they  can  perceive  no  deep  thinking  in  that  dar 
ling  man  Pope,  because  he  always  expresses  him 
self  with  such  admirable  clearness. 

My  father  \ised  to  recommend  Pope's  Homer  to 
me  :  but,  with  all  my  love  of  Pope,  I  never  could 
like  it.  (I  delight  in  Cowper's  Homer  j  I  have  read 
it  again  and  again  *). 

*  Thomas  Campbell  once  told  me  how  greatly  he  admired  Cow 
per's  Homer :  he  said  that  he  used  to  read  it  to  his  wife,  who  was 
moved  even  to  tears  by  some  passages  of  it. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  29 

The  article  on  Pope  in  the  Quarterly  Review  * 
was  certainly  touched  up  by  Gifford :  in  some 
places  it  is  beyond  the  powers  of  D'Israeli. 


Pope  is  not  to  be  compared  to  Dryden  for  varied 
harmony  of  versification  ;  nor  for  ease  ; — how  natu 
rally  the  words  follow  each  other  in  this  couplet  of 
Dry  den's  in  the  Second  Part  of  Absalom  and  Achi- 
tophel ! 

"  The  midwife  laid  her  hand  on  his  thick  skull, 
With  this  prophetic  blessing — Be  tliou  dull !  n 

and  in  that  touching  one  in  his  Epistle  to  Congreve, 

"  Be  kind  to  my  remains;  and,  0  defend, 
Against  your  judgment,  your  departed  friend !  " 

Dryden's  Virgil  is,  on  the  whole,  a  failure  ;  but 
I  am  not  sure  that  it  does  not  exhibit  the  best  speci 
mens  of  his  versification :  in  that  work  he  had  not 
to  tax  his  invention ;  he  had  only  to  think  of  the 
expression  and  versification.  It  contains  one  thing, 
in  the  supplication  of  Turnus  to  JEneas,  which  is 
finer  than  the  original ; 

*  Vol.  xxiii.  400.— ED. 


30  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

"  Yet  think,  O,  think,  if  mercy  may  be  shown, — 
Thou  hadst  a  father  once,  and  hast  a  son, — 
Pity  my  sire,"  &c. 

Virgil's  words  are  : 

"  Miseri  te  si  qua  parentis 
Tangere  cura  potest,  oro, — fuit  et  tibi  talis 
Anchises  genitor, — Dauni  miserere  senectee,"  &.c.* 


I  sometimes  wonder  f  how  a  man  can  ever  be 
cheerful,  when  he  knows  that  he  must  die.  But 
what  poets  write  about  the  horrors  of  the  grave 
makes  not  the  slightest  impression  npon  me  ;  for 
instance,  what  Dryden  says ; 

"  Vain  men !  how  vanishing  a  bliss  we  crave ! 
Now  warm  in  love,  now  withering  in  the  grave  1 
Never,  O,  never  more,  to  see  the  sun, 
Still  dark,  in  a  damp  vault,  and  still  alone  !  "  I 

*  ^En.  xii.  932.— ED. 

f  Mr.  Rogers  once  made,  the   same  remark  to  Mr.  Lnttrell,  who 
versified  it  as  follows : 

"  0  death,  thy  certainty  is  such 

And  thou'rt  a  thing  so  fearful, 
That,  musing,  I  have  wonder'd  much 
How  men  were  ever  cheerful." — ED. 

|  Polamon  and  Arcite,  b.  iii. — ED. 

.1 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  31 

All  this  is  unphilosophical ;  in  fact,  nonsense. 
The  body,  when  the  soul  has  left  it,  is  as  worthless 
as  an  old  garment, — rather  more  so,  for  it  rots  much 
sooner.  The  lines  of  Dry  den  which  I  have  just 
quoted  (and  which  are  modernised  from  Chaucer) 
were  great  favourites  with  Sheridan ;  I  seem  now 
to  hear  him  reciting  them. 


Sir  George  Beaumont  once  met  Quin  at  a  very 
small  dinner-party.  There  was  a  delicious  pudding, 
which  the  master  of  the  house,  pushing  the  dish  to 
wards  Quin,  begged  him  to  taste.  A  gentleman 
had  just  before  helped  himself  to  an  immense  piece 
of  it.  "  Pray,"  said  Quin,  looking  first  at  the  gen 
tleman's  plate  and  then  at  the  dish,  "  which  is  the 
pudding ! " 

Sir  George  Beaumont,  when  a  young  man,  was 
one  day  in  the  Mount  (a  famous  coffee-house  in 
Mount  Street,  Grosvenor  Square)  with  Harvey 
Aston.  Various  persons  were  seated  at  different 
tables.  Among  others  present,  there  was  an  Irish 
man  who  was  very  celebrated  as  a  duellist,  having 
killed  at  least  half-a-dozen  antagonists.  Aston, 


32  RECOLLECTIONS   OF  THE 

talking  to  some  of  his  acquaintance,  swore  that  he 
would  make  the  duellist  stand  barefooted  before 
them.  "  You  had  better  take  care  what  you  say," 
they  replied ;  "  he  has  his  eye  upon  you." — "  ~No  mat 
ter,"  rejoined  Aston  ;  "I  declare  again  that  he  shall 
stand  barefooted  before  you,  if  you  will  make  up 
among  you  a  purse  of  fifty  guineas."  They  did  so. 
Aston  then  said  in  a  loud  voice,  "  I  have  been  in  Ire 
land,  and  am  well  acquainted  with  the  natives."  The 
Irishman  was  all  ear.  Aston  went  on,  "  The  Irish, 
being  born  in  bogs,  are  every  one  of  them  web- 
footed  ;  I  know  it  for  a  fact." — "  Sir,"  roared  the 
duellist,  starting  up  from  his  table,  "  it  is  false  ! " 
Aston  persisted  in  his  assertion.  "  Sir,"  cried  the 
other,"  /was  born  in  Ireland;  and  I  will  prove  to 
you  that  it  is  a  falsehood."  So  saying,  in  great  haste 
he  pulled  off  his  shoes  and  stockings,  and  displayed 
his  bare  feet.  The  joke  ended  in  Aston's  sharing 
the  purse  between  the  Irishman  and  himself,  giving 
the  former  thirty  guineas,  and  keeping  twenty.  Sir 
George  assured  me  that  this  was  a  true  story.* 

*  A  similar  story  is  related  of  the  Irishman  from  whom  Mack- 
lin  took  the  idea  of  Sir  Callaghan  O'Brallaghan  (in  Love  a  la 
Mode).  Macklin  professing  his  belief  that  he,  like  other  Irishmen, 
mist  have  a  tail,  "he  instantly  pulled  off  his  coat  and  waistcoat, 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  33 

Aston  was  always  kicking  up  disturbances.  I 
remember  being  at  Ranelagh,  with  my  father  and 
mother,  when  we  heard  a  great  row,  and  were  told 
that  it  was  occasioned  by  Aston. 

If  I  mistake  not,  Aston  fought  two  duels  in 
India  on  two  successive  days,  and  fell  in  the  second 
one.* 


That  beautiful  view  of  Conway  Castle  [in  Mr. 
Rogers's  dining-room]  was  painted  by  Sir  George 
Beaumont,  who  presented  it  to  me  as  a  memorial  of 
our  having  been  originally  introduced  to  each  other 
in  its  ruins. — Sir  George  and  I  were  always  excellent 
friends.  The  morning  after  I  arrived  at  Yenice  (on 
my  first  visit  to  Italy),  I  was  looking  out  at  the 

to  convince  him  of  his  mistake,  assuring  him  '  that  no  Irishman,  in 
that  respect,  waj  better  than  another  man.'"  Cooke's  Memoirs  of 
Macklin,  p.  225.— ED. 

*  "  1798,  Dec.  23.  At  Madras,  in  consequence  of  a  wound  he 
received  in  a  duel  with  Major  Allen,  of  which  he  languished  about 
a  week,  Col.  Harvey  Aston.  He  had  been  engaged  in  a  similar 
affair  of  honour,  and  on  the  same  account,  with  Major  Picton,  only 
the  day  preceding  that  on  which  he  met  Major  A.,  but  which  was 
fortunately  terminated  by  each  party  firing  in  the  air,  and  a  proper 
explanation  taking  place  as  to  the  offence."  Gentleman's  Magazine, 
vol.  Ixix.  P.  1,  p.  527.— Aston  had  fought  a  duel  in  1790  with  Lieut. 
Fitzgerald,  and  was  severely  wounded.  See  Haydn's  Diet,  of  Dates, 

sub  Duelling. — ED. 

2* 


34  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

window,  when  I  saw  a  gentleman  and  a  lady  land 
at  my  lodging  from  a  gondola :  they  were  Sir  George 
and  Lady  Beaumont.  The  meeting  was  delightful : 
— even  now,  I  think  of  it  with  pleasure. 


In  my  youthful  days  Young's  Night- TJioughts 
was  a  very  favourite  book,  especially  with  ladies : 
I  knew  more  than  one  lady  who  had  a  copy  of  it  in 
which  particular  passages  were  marked  for  her  by 
some  popular  preacher. 

Young's  poem  The  Last  Day  contains,  amidst 
much  absurdity,  several  very  fine  lines :  what  an 
enormous  thought  is  this !  — 

"  Those  overwhelming  armies,  whose  command 
Said  to  one  empire  '  Fall,'  another  '  Stand,' 
Whose  rear  lay  rapt  in  night,  while  breaking  dawn 
Eous'd  the  'broad  front,  and  calVd  the  battle  on."* 


At  Brighton,  during  my  youth,  I  became  ac 
quainted  with  a  lawyer  who  had  known  Gray.    He 


*  Book  ii.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  35 

said  that  Gray's  pronunciation  was  very  affected, 
e.  g.  "  What  naise  (noise)  is  that  ?  " 

Henley  (the  translator  of  Beckford's  Vathek)  was 
one  morning  paying  a  visit  to  Gray,  when  a  dog 
came  into  the  room.  "Is  that  your  dog?"  said 
Henley.  "  No,"  replied  Gray :  "  do  you  suppose 
that  I  would  keep  an  animal  ~by  which  I  might  pos 
sibly  lose  my  life  ?  " 

I  was  a  mere  lad  when  Mason's  Gray  was  pub 
lished.  I  read  it  in  my  young  days  with  delight, 
and  have  done  so  ever  since  :  the  letters  have  for 
me  an  inexpressible  charm ;  they  are  as  witty  as 
"Walpole's,  and  have,  what  his  want,  true  wisdom. 
I  used  to  take  a  pocket  edition  of  Gray's  Poems 
with  me  every  morning  during  my  walks  to  town 
to  my  father's  banking-house,  where  I  was  a  clerk, 
and  read  them  by  the  way.  I  can  repeat  them  all. 

I  do  envy  Gray  these  lines  in  his  Ode  on  a  dis 
tant  prospect  of  Eton  College  • 

"  Still  as  they  run,  they  look  behind, 
They  hear  a  voice  in  every  wind, 
And  snatch  a  fearful  joy" 

But  what  immediately  follows  is  not  good  ; 


36  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

"  Gay  Hope  is  theirs,  by  Fancy  fed, 

Less  pleasing  when  possessed :  " 

we  cannot  be  said  to  possess  hope.* — How  strange 
it  is  that,  with  all  Gray's  care  in  composition,  the 
word  "shade"  should  occur  three  times  in  the 
course  of  the  eleven  first  lines  of  that  ode !  — 

"  Her  Henry's  holy  shade." 

"  Whose  turf,  whose  shade,  whose  flowers  among." 

"  Ah  happy  hills,  ah  pleasing  shade  !  " 

Both  Fox  and  Courtenay  thought  Gray's  frag 
ment,  The  Alliance  of  Education  and  Government, 
his  finest  poem :  but  that  was  because  they  pre 
ferred  the  heroic  couplet  to  every  other  kind  of 
verse.  A  celebrated  passage  in  it, — 

"  Oft  o'er  the  trembling  nations  from  afar 
Has  Scythia  breath'd  the  living  cloud  of  war ; 
And,  where  the  deluge  burst  with  sweepy  sway, 
Their  arms,  their  kings,  their  gods  were  roll'd  away. 
As  oft  have  issu'd,  host  impelling  host, 
The  blue-ey'd  myriads  from  the  Baltic  coast : 

*  His  friend  Wakefield  had  anticipated  Mr.  Rogers  in  the  above 
remark:  "Though  the  object  of  hope  may  truly  be  said  to  be  less 
pleasing  in  possession  than  in  the  fancy ;  yet  HOPE  in  person  cannot 
possibly  be  possessed"  &c.  Note  ad  1. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  8 

The  prostrate  south  to  the  destroyer  yields 
Her  boasted  titles  and  her  golden  fields  ; 
With  grim  delight  the  brood  of  winter  view 
A  brighter  day  and  heavens  of  azure  hue, 
Scent  the  new  fragrance  of  the  breathing  rose, 
And  quaff  the  pendent  vintage  as  it  grows," — 

is  a  good  deal  injured  by  the  forced  and  unnatural 
expression,  "pendent  vintage."* 

I  once  read  Gray's  Ode  to  Adversity  to  Words 
worth  ;  and  at  the  line, — 

"  And  leave  us  leisure  to  be  good," — 

Wordsworth  exclaimed,  "  I  am  quite  sure  that  is 
not  original ;  Gray  could  not  have  hit  upon  it."  f 

The  stanza  which  Gray  threw  out  of  his  Elegy 
is  better  than  some  of  the  stanzas  he  has  retained  : 

u  There  scatter'd  oft,  the  earliest  of  the  year, 

By  hands  unseen,  are  showers  of  violets  found  ; 
The  redbreast  loves  to  build  and  warble  there, 
And  little  footsteps  lightly  print  the  ground." 

*  For  this  expression  Gray  was  indebted  to  Virgil ; 
"  Non  eadem  arboribus  pendet  vvndemia  nostris 
Quam  Methymnaeo  carpit  de  palmite  Lesbos." 

Georg.  ii.  89. — ED. 
t  The  Rev.  J.  Mitford,  in  his  ed.  of  Gray,  cites  ad  1., 

"  And  know,  I  have  not  yet  the  leisure  to  be  good" 

Oldham,  Ode,  st.  5—  Works,  i.  85,  ed.  1722.— ED. 


38  RECOLLECTIONS   OF  THE 

I  believe  few  people  know,  what  is  certainly  a 
fact,  that  the  Madeane  who  was  hanged  for  rob 
bery,  and  who  is  mentioned  in  Gray's  Long  Story, — 

"  He  stood  as  mute  as  poor  Madeane," 

was  brother  to  Madaine,  the  translator  of  Mosheim. 
Gray  somewhere  says  that  monosyllables  should 
be  avoided  in  poetry  :  but  there  are  many  lines  con 
sisting  only  of  monosyllables,  which  could  not  pos 
sibly  be  improved.  For  instance,  in  Shakespeare's 
Homeo  and  Juliet, — 

"  Thon  canst  not  speak  of  what  thou  dost  not  feel ; "  * 

and  in  Pope's  Eloiscb  to  Abdard, — • 

"Pant  on  thy  lip,  and  to  thy  heart  be  prest ; 
Give  all  thou  canst,  and  let  me  dream  the  rest;." 


Matthias  showed  me  the  papers  belonging  to 
Pembroke  Hall,  Cambridge,  which  he  had  bor 
rowed  for  his  edition  of  Gray ;  and  among  them 
were  several  very  indecent  poems  by  Gray's  friend 
West,  in  whose  day  it  was  the  fashion  for  young 
men  to  write  in  that  style.  If  West  had  lived,  he 

*  Act  iii.  sc.  3.— ED. 


TABLE-TAJ.K   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  6\3 

would  have  been  no  mean  poet :  he  has  left  some 
lines  which  are  certainly  among  the  happiest  imita 
tions  of  Pope ; 

"  How  weak  is  man  to  reason's  judging  eye ! 
Born  in  this  moment,  in  the  next  we  die  ; 
Part  mortal  clay,  and  part  ethereal  fire, 
Too  proud  to  creep,  too  humble  to  aspire."  * 


When  I  was  at  Nuneham,  I  read  Mason's  manu 
script  letters  to  Lord  Harcourt,  which  contain  no 
thing  to  render  them  worth  printing.  They  evince 
the  excessive  deference  which  Mason  showed  to 
Gray, — "  Mr.  Gray's  opinion"  being  frequently 
quoted.  There  is  in  them  a  very  gross  passage 
about  Lady  M.  "W.  Montagu. 

Mason's  poetry  is,  on  the  whole,  stiff  and  tiresome. 
His  best  line  is  in  the  Elegy  on  Lady  Covent/ry  ; 

"  Yes,  Coventry  is  dead.     Attend  the  strain, 

Daughters  of  Albion !  ye  that,  light  as  air, 
So  oft  have  tripp'd  in  her  fantastic  train, 

With  hearts  as  gay,  and  faces  half  as  fair" 


*  See  Mason's  Gray,  p.  20,  ed.  4to. — ED. 


40  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

Topham  Beauclerk  (Johnson's  friend)  was  a 
strangely  absent  person.  One  day  he  had  a  party 
coming  to  dinner ;  and,  just  before  their  arrival,  he 
went  up  stairs  to  change  his  dress.  He  forgot  all 
about  them ;  thought  that  it  was  bed-time,  pulled 
off  his  clothes,  and  got  into  bed.  A  servant,  who 
presently  entered  the  room  to  tell  him  that  his 
guests  were  waiting  for  him,  found  him  fast  asleep. 


I  remember  taking  Seattle's  Minstrel  down  from 
my  father's  shelves,  on  a  fine  summer  evening,  and 
reading  it,  for  the  first  time,  with  such  delight !  It 
still  charms  me  (I  mean  the  First  Book ;  the  Second 
Book  is  very  inferior). 


During  my  youth  umbrellas  were  far  from  com 
mon.  At  that  time  every  gentleman's  family  had 
one  umbrella,* — a  huge  thing,  made  of  coarse  cotton, 
— which  used  to  be  taken  out  with  the  carriage,  and 
which,  if  there  was  rain,  the  footman  held  over  the 
ladies'  heads,  as  they  entered,  or  alighted  from,  the 
carriage. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  41 

•  My  first  visit  to  France  was  in  company  with 
Boddington,  just  before  the  Revolution  began. 
When  we  arrived  at  Calais,  we  saw  both  ladies  and 
gentlemen  walking  on  the  pier  with  small  fox-muffs. 
While  we  were  dining  there,  a  poor  monk  came  into 
the  room  and  asked  us  for  charity ;  and  B.  annoyed 
me  much  by  saying  to  him,  "H  faut  travailler."  * 
The  monk  bowed  meekly  and  withdrew.  Nothing 
would  satisfy  B.  but  that  we  should  ride  on  horse 
back  the  first  stage  from  Calais ;  and  accordingly,  to 
the  great  amusement  of  the  inn-keeper  and  cham 
ber-maid,-  we  were  furnished  with  immense  jack 
boots  and  hoisted  upon  our  steeds.  When  we 
reached  Paris,  Lafayette  gave  us  a  general  invita 
tion  to  dine  with  him  every  day.  At  his  table  we 
once  dined  with  about  a  dozen  persons  (among  them 
the  Duke  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  Condorcet,  &c.) 
most  of  whom  afterwards  came  to  an  untimely  end. 
At  a  dinner-party  in  Paris,  given  by  a  French 

*  "  But  we  distinguish,  said  I,  laying  my  hand  upon  the  sleeve 
of  his  [the  Monk's]  tunic,  in  return  for  his  appeal — we  distinguish, 
my  good  father,  hetwixt  those  who  wish  only  to  eat  the  bread  of  their 
own  labour,  and  those  who  eat  the  "bread  of  other  people's,  and  have 
no  other  plan  in  life  but  to  get  through  it  in  sloth  and  ignorance, 
for  the  love  of  God."  Sterne's  /Sentimental  Journey, — The  Monk. — 
ED. 


42  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

nobleman,  I  saw  a  black  bottle  of  English  porter 
set  on  the  table  as  a  great  rarity,  and  drunk  out  of 
small  glasses. 


Boddington  had  a  wretchedly  bad  memory; 
and,  in  order  to  improve  it,  he  attended  Feinaigle's 
lectures  on  the  Art  of  Memory.  Soon  after,  some 
body  asked  Boddington  the  name  of  the  lecturer ; 
and,  for  his  life,  he  could  not  recollect  it. — "When 
I  was  asked  if  I  had  attended  the  said  lectures  on 
the  Art  of  Memory,  I  replied,  "!N"o:  I  wished  to 
learn  the  Art  of  Forgetting." 


One  morning,  when  I  was  a  lad,  Wilkes  came 
into  our  banking-house  to  solicit  my  father's  vote. 
My  father  happened  to  be  out,  and  I,  as  his  re 
presentative,  spoke  to  "Wilkes.  At  parting,  Wilkes 
shook  hands  with  me ;  and  I  felt  proud  of  it  for  a 
week  after. 

He  was  quite  as  ugly,  and  squinted  as  much,  as 
his  portraits  make  him ;  but  he  was  very  gentle- 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  43 

manly  in  appearance  and  manners.  I  think  I  see 
him  at  this  moment,  walking  through  the  crowded 
streets  of  the  city,  as  Chamberlain,  on  his  way  to 
Guildhall,  in  a  scarlet  coat,  military  boots,  and  a 
bag-wig, — the  hackney-coachmen  in  vain  calling 
out  to  him,  "  A  coach,  your  honour? " 


Words  are  so  twisted  and  tortured  by  some 
writers  of  the  present  day,  that  I  am  really  sorry 
for  them, — I  mean,  for  the  words.  It  is  a  favourite 
fancy  of  mine,  that  perhaps  in  the  next  world  the 
use  of  \vords  may  be  dispensed  with, — that  our 
thoughts  may  stream  into  each  other's  minds  with 
out  any  verbal  communication. 


When  a  young  man,  I  went  to  Edinburgh,  car 
rying  letters  of  introduction  (from  Dr.  Kippis,  Dr. 
Price,  &c.)  to  Adam  Smith,  Robertson,  and  others. 
When  I  first  saw  Smith,  he  was  at  breakfast,  eating 
strawberries ;  and  he  descanted  on  the  superior 
flavour  of  those  grown  in  Scotland.*  I  found  him 

*  Every  Englishman  who  has  tasted  the  strawberries  of  Scotland 
will  allow  that  Smith  was  right. — ED. 


4A  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

very  kind  and  communicative.  He  was  (what 
Robertson  was  not)  a  man  who  had  seen  a  great 
deal  of  the  world.  Once,  in  the  course  of  conver 
sation,  I  happened  to  remark  of  some  writer,  that 
"he  was  rather  superficial, — a  Yoltaire." — "Sir," 
cried  Smith,  striking  the  table  with  his  hand,  "  there 
has  been  but  one  "V oltaire !  " 

Robertson,  too,  was  very  kind  to  me.  He,  one 
morning,  spread  out  the  map  of  Scotland  on  the 
floor,  and  got  upon  his  knees,  to  describe  the  route 
I  ought  to  follow  in  making  a  tour  on  horseback 
through  the  Highlands. 

At  Edinburgh  I  became  acquainted  with  Henry 
Mackenzie,  who  asked  me  to  correspond  with  him ; 
which  I  (then  young,  romantic,  and  an  admirer  of 
his  Julia  de  RoubignS)  willingly  agreed  to.  "We 
accordingly  wrote  to  each  other  occasionally  during 
several  years ;  but  his  letters,  to  my  surprise  and 
disappointment,  were  of  the  most  common-place 
description.  Yet  his  published  writings  display  no 
ordinary  talent ;  and,  like  those  of  Beattie,  they  are 
remarkable  for  a  pure  English  idiom, — which  can 
not  be  said  of  Hume's  writings,  beautiful  as  they  are. 

The  most  memorable  day  perhaps  which  I  ever 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  45 

passed  was  at  Edinburgh, — a  Sunday  ;  when,  after 
breakfasting  with  Robertson,  I  heard  him  preach  in 
the  forenoon,  and  Blair  in  the  afternoon,  then  took 
coffee  with  the  Piozzis,  and  supped  with  Adam 
Smith.  Robertson's  sermon  was  excellent  both  for 
matter  and  manner  of  delivery.  Blair's  was  good, 
but  less  impressive  ;  and  his  broad  Scotch  accent 
offended  my  ears  greatly. 

My  acquaintance  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Piozzi  be 
gan  at  Edinburgh,  being  brought  about  by  the  land 
lord  of  the  hotel  where  they  and  I  were  staying. 
He  thought  that  I  should  be  gratified  by  "  hearing 
Mr.  Piozzi's  piano-forte  : "  and  they  called  upon  me, 
on  learning  from  the  landlord  who  I  was,  and  that 
Adam  Smith,  Robertson,  and  Mackenzie  had  left 
cards  for  me. 

I  was  afterwards  very  intimate  with  the  Piozzis, 
and  visited  them  often  at  Streatham.  The  world 
was  most  unjust  in  blaming  Mrs.  Thrale  for  marry 
ing  Piozzi :  he  was  a  very  handsome,  gentlemanly, 
and  amiable  person,  and.  made  her  a  very  good  hus 
band.  In  the  evening  he  used  to  play  to  us  most 
beautifully  on  the  piano.  Her  daughters  never 
would  see  her  after  that  marriage ;  and  (poor  woman) 


46  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

when  she  was  at  a  very  great  age,  I  have  heard  her 
say  that  "  she  would  go  down  upon  her  knees  to 
them,  if  they  would  only  be  reconciled  to  her." 


I  never  saw  Burns  :  I  was  within  thirty  miles  of 
Dumfries  when  he  was  living  there  ;  and  yet  I  did 
not  go  to  visit  him ;  which  I  have  regretted  ever 
since. — I  think  his  Cottars  Saturday -Night  the 
finest  pastoral  in  any  language. 

How  incapable  of  estimating  Burns's  genius 
were  the  worthy  folks  of  Edinburgh  !  Henry  Mac 
kenzie  (who  ought  to  have  known  better)  advised 
him  to  take  for  his  model  in  song- writing — Mrs. 
John  Hunter !  * 


Sir  John  Henry  Moore,  who  died  in  his  twenty- 
fourth  year,  possessed  considerable  talent.  His 
L"  Amour  titnide  is  very  pretty. 

*  As  a  writer  of  songs,  Mrs.  Hunter  is,  no  doubt,  immeasurably 
inferior  to  Burns :  but  her  Cherokee  Death-Song,  and  several  other 
small  pieces  which  she  wrote  for  music,  are  far  from  contemptible : 
see  her  Poems,  1802. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  4:7 

["  L1  Amour  timide. 
If  in  that  breast,  so  good,  so  pure, 

Compassion  ever  lov'd  to  dwell, 
Pity  the  sorrows  I  endure  ; 

The  cauye — I  must  not,  dare  not  tell. 

The  grief  that  on  my  quiet  preys — * 

That  rends  my  heart — that  checks  my  tongue, — 
I  fear  will  last  me  all  my  days, 

But  feel  it  will  not  last  me  long."  ] 


Marivaux'sf  Marianne  is  a  particular  favourite 
with,  me  :  I  have  read  it  six  times  through  ;  and  I 
have  shed  tears  over  it,  after  I  was  seventy, — not 
so  much  at  its  pathos  as  at  its  generous  senti 
ments. 

*  Mr.  Rogers,  I  believe,  was  not  aware  that  the  second  stanza  is 
taken  from  Montreuil ; 

"  Ne  me  demandez  plus,  Sylvie, 
Quel  est  le  mal  que  je  ressens. 
C'est  un  mal  que  j'auray  tout  le  temps  de  ma  vie, 
Mais  je  ne  1'auray  pas  long- temps." 

(Euvres,  p.  602,  ed.  1666. — ED. 

f  At  the  Strawberry-Hill  sale,  Mr.  Rogers's  admiration  of  this 
writer  induced  him  to  purchase  his  picture — a  miniature,  by  Liotaxd, 
which  had  been  painted  for  Horace  Walpole. — ED. 


4:8  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

The  Abbe  Delille  (whom  I  knew  well  and  liked 
much)  was  of  opinion  that  Marivaux's  Paysan  Par 
venu  was  a  greater  literary  effort  than  Marianne. 

I  once  said  to  Delille,  "Don't  you  think  that 
Voltaire's  vers  de  soci4t4  are  the  first  of  their  kind? " 
He  replied,  "  Assuredly  ;  the  very  first,  and — the 
last." 


Dr.  Parr  had  a  great  deal  of  sensibility.  When  i 
read  to  him,  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  the  account  of 
O'Coigly's  *  death,  the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 

One  day,  Mackintosh  having  vexed  him  by  call 
ing  O'Coigly  "a  rascal,"  Parr  immediately  rejoined, 
"Yes,  Jamie,  he  was  a  bad  man,  but  he  might  have 
been  worse ;  he  was  an  Irishman,  but  he  might  have 
been  a  Scotchman ;  he  was  a  priest,  but  he  might 
have  been  a  lawyer  ;  he  was  a  republican,  but  he 
might  have  been  an  apostate." 

*  James  O'Coigly  (alias  James  Quigley,  alias  James  John 
Fivey)  was  tried  for  high  treason  at  Maidstone,  and  hanged  on  Pen- 
ningdon  Heath,  7th  June,  1798.  When  he  had  hung  about  ten 
minutes,  he  was  beheaded  ;  and  the  head  and  body  were  immediately 
buried  under  the  gallows  (the  rest  of  his  sentence — that,  "  while  he 
was  yet  alive,  his  bowels  should  be  taken  out  and  burnt  before  his 
face,"  &c.,  having  been  remitted). — En. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  49 

After  their  quarrel  (about  Gerald),  Parr  often 
spoke  with  much  bitterness  of  Mackintosh :  among 
other  severe  things,  he  said  that  "  Mackintosh  came 
up  from  Scotland  with  a  metaphysical  head,  a  cold 
heart,  and  open  hands."  At  last  they  were  recon 
ciled,  having  met,  for  that  purpose,  in  my  house  : 
but  their  old  familiarity  was  never  fully  re-esta 
blished. 

Parr  was  frequently  very  tiresome  in  conversa 
tion,  talking  like  a  schoolmaster. 

He  had  a  horror  of  the  east  wind;  and  Tom 
Sheridan  once  kept  him  prisoner  in  the  house  for  a 
fortnight  by  fixing  the  weathercock  in  that  direc 
tion. 


"We  have  not  a  few  charming  prose-writers  in 
what  may  be  called  the  middle  style, — Addison, 
Middleton,  Jortin,  &c. ;  but  in  the  highest  prose- 
style  we  have  none  to  be  compared  with  Bossuet, 
Pascal,  or  BufFon. — We  have  far  better  tragic  wri 
ters  than  Corneille  or  Racine  ;  but  we  have  no  one 
to  be  compared  with  Moliere, — no  one  like  him. 


50  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

Swift's  verses  on  liis  own  death  have  an  exqui 
site  facility:  but  we  are  not  to  suppose  that  he 
wrote  them  off-hand ;  their  ease  is  the  result  of  very 
careful  composition. 


Helen  Maria  Williams  was  a  very  fascinating 
person ;  but  not  handsome.  I  knew  her  intimately 
in  her  youth,  when  she  resided  in  London  with  her 
mother  and  sisters.  They  used  to  give  very  agree 
able  evening-parties,  at  which  I  have  met  many  of 
the  Scotch  literati,  Lord  Monboddo,  &c. 

Late  in  life,  Helen  translated  into  English,  and 
very  beautiful  English  too,  Humboldt's  long  work, 
Personal  Narrative  of  Travels,  &c. ;  and,  I  believe, 
nearly  the  whole  impression  still  lies  in  Longman's 
warehouse. 

When  she  was  in  Paris,  during  the  Revolution, 
she  has  seen  men  and  women,  who  were  waiting  for 
admission  at  the  door  of  the  theatre,  suddenly  leave 
their  station  on  the  passing  of  a  set  of  wretches 
going  to  be  guillotined,  and  then,  after  having  as 
certained  that  none  of  their  relations  or  friends  were 
among  them,  very  unconcernedly  return  to  the 
door  of  the  theatre. — I  have  frequently  dined  with 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  51 

her  at  Paris,  when  Kosciusko  and  other  celebrated 
persons  were  of  the  party. 


"When  Lord  Erskine  heard  that  somebody  had 
died  worth  two  hundred  thousand  pounds,  he  ob 
served,  "  Well,  that's  a  very  pretty  sum  to  begin 
the  next  world  with." 

"  A  friend  of  mine,"  said  Erskine,  "  was  suffering 
from  a  continual  wakefulness ;  and  various  methods 
were  tried  to  send  him  to  sleep,  but  in  vain.  At  last 
his  physicians  resorted  to  an  experiment  which  suc 
ceeded  perfectly :  they  dressed  him  in  a  watchman's 
coat,  put  a  lantern  into  liis  hand,  placed  him  in  a 
sentry-box,  and — he  was  asleep  in  ten  minutes." 

To  all  letters  soliciting  his  "  subscription"  to  any 
thing,  Erskine  had  a  regular  form  of  reply,  viz. 
"  Sir,  I  feel  much  honoured  by  your  application  to 
me,  and  I  beg  to  subscribe  " — here  the  reader  had 
to  turn  over  the  leaf-—"  myself  your  very  obl  ser 
vant,"  &c. 

I  wish  I  could  recollect  all  the  anecdotes  of  his 
early  life  which  Erskine  used  to  relate  with  such 
gpirit  and  dramatic  effect.  He  had  been  in  the  navy ; 


52  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

and  lie  said  that  lie  once  managed  to  run  a  vessel 
between  two  rocks,  where  it  seemed  almost  impos 
sible  that  she  could  have  been  driven.  He  had  also 
been  in  the  army  ;  and  on  one  occasion  saved  the  life 
of  a  soldier  who  was  condemned  to  death,  by  mak 
ing  an  earnest  appeal  in  his  behalf  to  the  general 
in  command  and  his  wife :  Erskine  having  got  the 
pardon,  rode  off  with  it  at  full  speed  to  the  place  of 
execution,  where  he  arrived  just  as  the  soldier  was 
kneeling,  and  the  muskets  were  levelled  for  the 
fatal  shot. 

Erskine  used  to  say  that  when  the  hour  came 
that  all  secrets  should  be  revealed,  we  should  know 
the  reason  why — shoes  are  always  made  too  tight. 

When  he  had  a  house  at  Hampstead,  he  enter 
tained  the  very  best  company.  I  have  dined  there 
with  the  Prince  of  Wales, — the  only  time!  ever  had 
any  conversation  with  his  royal  highness.  On  that 
occasion  the  Prince  was  very  agreeable  and  familiar. 
Among  other  anecdotes  which  he  told  us  of  Lord 
Thurlow,  I  remember  these  two.  The  first  was : 
Thurlow  once  said  to  the  Prince,  "  Sir,  your  father 
will  continue  to  be  a  popular  king  as  long  as  he 
continues  to  go  to  church  every  Sunday,  and  to  be 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  53 

faithful  to  that  ugly  woman,  your  mother ;  but  you, 
sir,  will  never  be  popular."  The  other  was  this : 
While  his  servants  were  carrying  Thurlow  up  stairs 
to  his  bed-room,  just  before  his  death,  they  hap 
pened  to  let  his  legs  strike  against  the  banisters, 
upon  which  he  utterred  the  last  words  he  ever  spoke, 
— a  frightful  imprecation  on  "  all  their  souls." 

Erskine  said  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  was  quite 
"a  cosmogony  man"  (alluding  to  The  Vicar  of 
Walcefield],  for  he  had  only  two  classical  quota 
tions, — one  from  Homer  and  one  from  Yirgil, — 
which  he  never  failed  to  sport  when  there  was  any 
opportunity  of  introducing  them.* 

Latterly  Erskine  was  very  poor ;  and  no  wonder, 
for  he  always  contrived  to  sell  out  of  the  funds  when 
they  were  very  low,  and  to  buy  in  when  they  were 
very  high.  "By  heaven,"  he  would  say,  "  I  am  a 
perfect  kite,  all  paper ;  the  boys  might  fly  me." 
Yet,  poor  as  he  was,  he  still  kept  the  best  society  : 
I  have  met  him  at  the  Duke  of  York's,  &c.  &c. 


*  Mr.  Luttrell,  who  was  present  when  Mr.  Rogers  told  this  anec 
dote,  added — "  Yes,  and  the  quotation  from  Virgil  was  always  given 
with  a  ridiculous  error,  '  Non  illi  imperium  pelago,  saevumque  triden- 
tom.'"&c.  &n.  i.  138.— ED. 


54:  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

I  asked  Erskine  if  he  really  was  the  author  of 
two  little  poems  attributed  to  him, — The  Geranium 
and  The  Birth  of  the  Rose.  He  replied  that  The 
Geranium  was  written  by  him  ;  that  the  other  was 
not  his. 

Here's  an  epigram  by  Erskine  which  is  far  from 
bad  (I  know  not  if  it  has  ever  been  printed) ; 

"  The  French  have  taste  in  all  they  do, 

Which  we  are  quite  without ; 
For  Nature,  that  to  them  gave  gout, 
To  us  gave  only  gout," 


Thomas  Grenville*  told  me  this  curious  fact. 
When  he  was  a  young  man,  he  one  day  dined  with 
Lord  Spencer  at  Wimbledon.  Among  the  company 
was  George  Pitt  (afterwards  Lord  Rivers),  who  de 
clared  that  he  could  tame  the  most  furious  animal 
by  looking  at  it  steadily.  Lord  Spencer  said,  "  Well, 
there  is  a  mastiff  in  the  court-yard  here,  which  is 

*  The  Eight  Hon.  T.  G. — Sometimes,  towards  the  close  of 
his  life,  from  lapse  of  memory,  Mr.  Rogers,  in  relating  this  anec 
dote,  would  state  that  he  himself  had  been  of  the  party  at  Lord 
Spencer's. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  55 

the  terror  of  the  neighbourhood :  will  you  try  your 
powers  on  him  ?  "  Pitt  agreed  to  do  so  ;  and  the 
company  descended  into  the  court-yard.  A  servant 
held  the  mastiff  by  a  chain.  Pitt  knelt  down  at 
a  short  distance  from. the  animal,  and  stared  him 
sternly  in  the  face.  They  all  shuddered.  At  a 
signal  given,  the  mastiff  was  let  loose,  and  rushed 
furiously  towards  Pitt, — then  suddenly  checked  his 
pace,  seemed  confounded,  and,  leaping  over  Pitt's 
head,  ran  away,  and  was  not  seen  for  many  hours 
after. 

During  one  of  my  visits  to  Italy,  while  I  was 
walking,  a  little  before  my  carriage,  on  the  road, 
not  far  from  Yicenza,  I  perceived  two  huge  dogs, 
nearly  as  tall  as  myself,  bounding  towards  me  (from 
out  a  gate-way,  though  there  was  no  house  in  sight). 
I  recollected  what  Pitt  had  done  ;  and  trembling 
from  head  to  foot,  I  yet  had  resolution  enough  to 
stand  quite  still  and  eye  them  with  a  fixed  look. 
They  gradually  relaxed  their  speed  from  a  gallop  to 
a  trot,  came  up  to  me,  stopped  for  a  moment,  and 
then  went  back  again. 


56  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

Dunning  (afterwards  Lord  Ashburton)  was  "  stat 
ing  the  law"  to  a  jury  at  Guildhall,  when  Lord 
Mansfield  interrupted  him  by  saying,  "  If  that  be 
law,  I'll  go  home  and  burn  my  books." — "My 
Lord,"  replied  Dunning,  "  you  had  better  go  home 
and  read  them." 

Dunning  was  remarkably  ugly.  One  night, 
while  he  was  playing  whist,  at  Nando's,  with  Home 
Tooke  and  two  others,  Lord  Thurlow  called  at  the 
door,  and  desired  the  waiter  to  give  a  note  to  Dun 
ning  (with  whom,  though  their  politics  were  so  dif 
ferent,  he  was  very  intimate).  The  waiter  did  not 
know  Dunning  by  sight.  "  Take  the  note  up  stairs," 
said  Thurlow,  "  and  deliver  it  to  the  ugliest  man  at 
the  card-table — to  him  who  most  resembles  the 
knave  of  spades."  The  note  immediately  reached 
its  destination.  Home  Tooke  used  often  to  tell  this 
anecdote. 


When  I  was  young,  we  had  (what  we  have  not 
now)  several  country-gentlemen  of  considerable 
literary  celebrity, — for  instance,  Hayley,  Sargent, 
(author  of  The  Mine),  and  Webb.  There  are  some 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  57 

good  remarks  on  painting  and  on  poetry  scattered 
through  Webb's  different  pieces. 

If  Hayley  was  formerly  over-rated,  he  is  now 
undervalued.  He  was  a  most  accomplished  person, 
as  indeed  is  evident  from  the  notes  to  his  various 
poems, — notes  which  Lord  Holland  admires  great 
ly.*  His  translation  of  the  First  Canto  of  the  In 
ferno  f  is  on  the  whole  good ;  but  he  has  omitted 
some  of  the  striking  circumstances  in  the  original. 

When  I  first  came  forward  as  a  poet,  I  was 
highly  gratified  by  the  praise  which  Hayley  be 
stowed  on  my  writings,  and  which  was  communi 
cated  to  me  by  Cadell  the  publisher. 

I  once  travelled  with  Lord  Lansdowne  (when 
Lord  Henry  Petty)  to  Bognor,  in  the  neighbour 
hood  of  which  Hayley  was  then  living  (not  at 
Eartham,  but  in  a  village  \  near  it).  I  went  to  visit 
him.  The  door  was  opened  by  a  little  girl ;  and 


*  "  Lord  Holland,  the  best-informed  and  most  elegant  of  our 
writers  on  the  subject  of  the  Spanish  theatre,  declared  that  he  had 
been  induced  to  learn  that  language  by  what  Hayley  had  written  con 
cerning  the  poet  Ercilla."  Gary's  Life  of  Hayley — Lives  of  English 
Poets,  &c.  p.  347. — ED. 

f  In  the  Notes  to  his  Essay  on  Poetry. — ED. 

\  Felpham.— ED. 
3* 


58  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

when  I  said,  "  Is  Mr.  Hayley  at  home  ? "  he  himself 
exclaimed,  "  Yes, he  is" — (he  recognised  my  voice, 
though  we  had  only  met  once  before, — at  Flax- 
man's)  ;  and  out  he  came,  adding,  "  I  am  delighted 
to  see  you  :  if  I  had  not  known  your  voice,  I  should 
not  have  let  you  in,  for  I  am  very  busy."  I  took 
coffee  with  him,  and  he  talked  most  agreeably.  I 
said  that  Lord  Henry  Petty  was  my  travelling  com 
panion,  and  that  he  was  very  anxious  to  be  intro 
duced  to  him :  but  Hayley,  who  did  not  care  a  straw 
for  rank,  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  see  his 
lordship. 


In  those  days,  indeed,  praise  was  sweet  to  me, 
even  when  it  came  from  those  who  were  far  inferior 
to  Hayley  :  what  pleasure  I  felt  on  being  told  that 
Este  had  said  of  me,  "  A  child  of  Goldsmith,  sir  ! " 

Parson  Este,  in  conjunction  with  Captain  Top- 
ham,  edited  the  newspaper  called  The  World.  He 
was  reader  at  "Whitehall ;  and  he  read  the  service 
so  admirably,  that  Mrs.  Siddons  used  frequently  to 
go  to  hear  him.  My  sister  and  I  once  took  him 
with  us  on  a  little  tour  ;  and  when  we  were  at  Boss, 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  59 

• 

he  read  to  us  Pope's  lines  about  "  the  man  of 
Ross," — I  cannot  describe  how  beautifully. 

Este  published  a  strange  book,  My  own  Life, 
and  A  Journey  through  Flanders,  &c.  He  used  to 
throw  himself  into  attitudes  in  the  street.  At  last 
he  went  mad,  and  died  insane. 


I  wish  somebody  would  collect  all  the  Epigrams 
written  by  Dr.  Hansel  (Master  of  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge,  and  Bishop  of  Bristol):  they  are  re 
markably  neat  and  clever. 


When  titled  ladies  become  authoresses  or  com 
posers,  their  friends  suffer  for  it.  Lady  -  -  asked 
me  to  buy  her  book  ;  and  I  replied  that  I  would  do 
so  when  I  was  rich  enough.  I  went  to  a  concert  at 

Lady 's,  during  which  several  pieces  composed 

by  her  daughter  were  performed ;  and  early  next 
morning,  a  music-seller  arrived  at  my  house,  bring 
ing  with  him  the  daughter's  compositions  (and  a  bill 
receipted),  price  sixteen  shillings. 


60  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

Surely,  in  delicate  touches  of  pathos  Homer  ex 
cels  all  poets.  For  instance,  how  beautiful  is  An 
dromache's  saying,  after  Hector's  death,  that  As- 
tyanax  had  lost  his  playfellow  /  and  Helen's  decla 
ration  concerning  the  same  hero,  that  he  had  never 
reproached  her ! 

[u  Thee  lost,  lie  loses  all,  of  father,  both, 
And  equal  playmate  in  one  day  depriv'd." 

Cowper's  Iliad,  b.  xxii. 

"  Yet  never  heard  I  once  hard  speech  from  thee 
Or  taunt  morose ;  but  if  it  ever  chanc'd 
That  male  or  female  of  thy  father's  house 
Blam'd  me,  and  even  if  herself  the  queen 
(For  in  the  king,  whate'er  befell,  I  found 
Always  a  father),  thou  hast  interpos'd 
Thy  gentle  temper  and  thy  gentle  speech 
To  soothe  them."  Id.  b.  xxiv.] 

John  Hunter  believed  that  when  there  was  only 
one  daughter  and  several  sons  in  a  family,  the 
daughter  was  always  of  a  masculine  disposition ;  and 
that  when  a  family  consisted  of  several  daughters  and 
only  one  son,  the  son  was  always  effeminate.  Payne 
Knight  used  to  say  that  Homer  seems  to  have  enter 
tained  the  same  idea  ;  for  in  the  Iliad  we  find  that 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  61 

Dolon,  who  proves  to  be  such  a  coward,  was  an  only 
son  and  had  several  sisters. 

["  There  was  one  Dolon  in  the  camp  of  Troy, 
Son  of  Eumedes,  herald  of  the  gods, 
Who  with  five  daughters  had  no  son  beside." 

Cowper's  Iliad,  b.  x.] 

Some  traveller  relates,  that  an  Indian  being 
asleep  in  his  canoe,  which  was  fastened  to  the  shore, 
a  little  above  the  Falls  of  Niagara,  an  English  sol 
dier  wantonly  cut  the  fastenings,  and  the  canoe 
drifted  into  the  current ; — that  the  Indian,  after 
vainly  trying  the  use  of  his  paddles,  and  perceiving 
that  he  was  just  approaching  the  Falls,  covered  his 
head  with  his  mat,  lay  down  in  the  canoe,  and 
calmly  resigned  himself  to  his  fate.  So  Homer,  fol 
lowing  nature,  tells  us  in  the  Odyssey  that  Ulysses, 
when  his  companions  had  opened  the  bag  which 
contained  the  winds,  covered  his  head  with  his 
mantle,  and  lay  down  in  the  vessel. 

["  They  loos'd  the  bag ;  forth  issu'd  all  the  winds, 
And,  rapt  by  tempests  back,  with  fruitless  tears 
They  mourn'd  their  native  country  lost  again. 
Just  then  awaking,  in  my  troubled  rnind 
I  doubted,  whether  from  the  vessel's  side 


RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

To  plunge  and  perish,  or  with  patient  mind 

To  suffer  and  to  live.    The  sufferer's  part 

At  length  I  chose,  and  resolute  surviv'd. 

But,  with  my  mantle  wrapp'd  around  my  brows, 

I  laid  me  down,  till,  hurried  by  the  blast, 

We,  groaning,  reach'd  again  th'  JEolian  isle."  . 

Oowper's  Odyssey,  b.  x.] 


It  is  inexcusable  in  any  one  to  write  illegibly. 
When  I  was  a  schoolboy,  I  used  to  get  hold  of  our 
writing-master's  copies  and  trace  them  by  holding 
them  against  the  window  :  hence  the  plain  hand  I 
now  write. — When  the  great  Lord  Olive  was  in 
India,  his  sisters  sent  him  some  handsome  presents 
from  England ;  and  he  informed  them  by  letter  that 
he  had  returned  them  an  "elephant"  (at  least  so 
they  read  the  word) ;  an  announcement  which  threw 
them  into  the  utmost  perplexity, — for  what  could 
they  possibly  do  with  the  animal?  The  true  word 
was  "equivalent."* 


*  Those  who  have  seen  autograph  letters  of  Dr.  Parr  will  not 
easily  believe  that  any  handwriting  could  be  more  puzzliug.  A 
Fellow  of  Magdalen  College  (who  himself  told  me  the  circumstance) 
Deceived  one  day  a  note  from  Parr,  to  say  that  he  was  on  his  way  to 


TABLE-TALK  OF  SAMUEL  EOGEES.         63 

Romney  the  painter  used  to  say  that  the  Grecian 
architecture  was  the  invention  of  glorious  men,  but 
the  Gothic  that  of  gods. 


Thomas  Grenville  *  told  me  that  he  was  present 
in  the  House  when  Lord  North,  suddenly  rising  from 
his  seat  and  going  out,  carried  off  on  the  hilt  of  his 
sword  the  wig  of  Welbore  Ellis,  who  was  stooping 
to  take  up  some  papers.  —  I  have  myself  often  seen 
Lord  North  in  the  House.  While  sitting  there,  he 
would  frequently  hold  a  handkerchief  to  his  face  ; 
and  once,  after  a  long  debate,  when  somebody  said 
to  him,  "My  lord,  I  fear  you  have  been  asleep,"  he 
replied,  "  I  wish  I  had." 


Sheridan,  Tickell,  and  the  rest  of  their  set  de 
lighted  in  all  sorts  of  practical  jokes.  For  instance, 
while  they  were  staying  with  Mr.  f  and  Mrs.  Crewe 

Oxford,  would  sup  with  ham  that  night,  and  would  be  glad  to  have 
two  eggs  (so  my  informant  read  the  words)  got  ready  for  his  supper. 
Accordingly,  on  his  arrival,  the  eggs  were  served  up  in  all  due  form 
to  the  hungry  Doctor,  who  no  sooner  saw  them  than  he  flew  into  a 
violent  passion.  Instead  of  eggs  he  had  written  lobsters. — ED. 

*  The  Right  Honourable  T.  G.— ED. 

f  Raised  to  the  peerage  (as  Lord  Crewe)  in  1806. — ED. 


64  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

(at  Crewe  Hall),  Mrs.  Sheridan  and  Mrs.  Crewe 
would  be  driving  out  in  the  carriage,  Sheridan  and 
Tickell  *  riding  on  before  them :  suddenly,  the  ladies 
would  see  Sheridan  stretched  upon  the  ground,  ap 
parently  in  the  agonies  of  death,  and  Tickell  stand 
ing  over  him  in  a  theatrical  attitude  of  despair. 
• — Again,  Mr.  Crewe  expressed  a  great  desire  to 
meet  Richardson  (author  of  The  Fugitive),  of 
whom  he  had  heard  Sheridan  and  Tickell  talk  with 
much  admiration.  "  I  have  invited  him  here,"  said 
Sheridan,  "  and  he  will  positively  be  with  us  to 
morrow."  Next  day,  accordingly,  Richardson  made 
his  appearance,  and  horrified  the  Crewes  by  the  vul 
garity  and  oddness  of  his  manners  and  language. 
The  fact  was,  Sheridan  had  got  one  of  Mr.  Crewe's 
tenants  to  personate  Richardson  for  the  occasion. — I 
don't  know  whether  Richardson's  Fugitive  is  a  good 
comedy  or  not ;  f  but  I  know  that  Mrs.  Jordan 

*  Is  it  necessary  to  mention  that  Tickell  (author  of  The  Wreath  of 
Fashion,  a  poem,  of  Anticipation,  a  prose  pamphlet,  &c.  &c.)  was  one 
of  Sheridan's  most  intimate  friends ;  and  that  he  and  Sheridan  had 
married  sisters  ? — ED. 

•f  It  is  far  from  a  contemptible  one ;  and  it  must  have  been  ex 
tremely  well  acted ;  for,  besides  the  two  performers  whom  Mr.  Rogers 
mentions,  Dodd,  Parsons,  Palmer,  King,  Miss  Farren,  and  Miss  Pope, 
had  parts  in  it. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  65 

played  very  sweetly  in  it,  and  that  "Wewitzer  per 
formed  a  Frenchman  most  amusingly. 

I'll   tell  you   another    of    Sheridan's    youthful 
pranks.     One  night,  as  he,  Fitzpatrick,  and  Lord 
John  Townshend,  came  out  of  Drury-lane  Theatre, 
they  observed,  among  the  vehicles  in  waiting,  a  very 
handsome  phaeton  with  a  groom  in  it.     Sheridan 
asked  the  groom  to  let  him  get  into  the  phaeton  for 
five  minutes,  just  to  try  it.    The  man  consented,  and 
stepped  down.     Sheridan  got  in,  made  Fitzpatrick 
and  Townshend  get  in  also,  and  then  drove  off  at  full 
speed  for  Yauxhall,  whither  they  were  pursued  by 
the  groom  and  a  great  crowd,  shouting  and  haloo- 
ing  after  them.     At  Vauxhall  the  groom  recovered 
the  phaeton,  and  was  pacified  by  the  present  of  a 
few  shillings.     But  it  would  seem  that  this  exploit 
had  been  attended  with   some  unpleasant  conse 
quences  to  Sheridan,  for  he  could  not  bear  any  allu 
sion  to  it :  he  would  say,  "  Pray  do  not  mention 
such  an  absurd  frolic." 

I  was  present  on  the  second  day  of  Hastings's 
trial  in  Westminster  Hall ;  when  Sheridan  was 
listened  to  with  such  attention  that  you  might  have 
heard  a  pin  drop. — During  one  of  those  days,  Sheri- 


66  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

dan,  having  observed  Gibbon  among  the  audience, 
took  occasion  to  mention  "the  luminous  author  of 
The  Decline  and  Fall?  *  After  he  had  finished, 
one  of  his  ffiends  reproached  him  with  flattering 
Gibbon.  "  Why,  what  did  I  say  of  him  ?  "  asked 
Sheridan. — "  You  called  him  the  luminous  author," 
&c. — "  Luminous  !  oh,  I  meant — aluminous." 

Sheridan  once  said  to  me,  "  When  posterity  read 
the  speeches  of  Burke,  they  will  hardly  be  able  to 
believe  that,  during  his  life-time,  he  was  not  con 
sidered  as  a  first-rate  speaker,  not  even  as  a  second- 
rate  one." 

When  the  Duke  of  York  was  obliged  to  retreat 
before  the  Trench,t  Sheridan  gave  as  a  toast,  "  The 
Duke  of  York  and  his  brave  followers." 

*  But,  as  reported  in  Tlie  Morning  Chronicle,  June  14,  1788,  the 
expression  used  by  Sheridan  was  "the  correct  periods  of  Tacitus 
or  the  luminous  page  of  Gibbon" — "  Before  my  departure  from  Eng 
land,  I  was  present  at  the  august  spectacle  of  Mr.  Hastings's  trial  in 
Westminster  Hall.  It  is  not  my  province  to  ahsolve  or  condemn  the 
Governor  of  India ;  hut  Mr.  Sheridan's  eloquence  demanded  my  ap 
plause  ;  nor  could  I  hear  without  emotion  the  personal  compliment 
which  he  paid  me  in  the  presence  of  the  British  nation."  Gibbon's 
Memoirs,  &c.  p.  172,  ed.  4to. — ED. 

f  On  the  campaigns  of  his  Royal  Highness,  see  Memoir  of  the 
Dutce  of  York  in  The  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  January  1827, 
pp.  71,  2,  3.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  67 

Sheridan  was  dining  one  day  at  my  house  when 
I  produced  the  versified  translation  of  Aristsenetus,* 
saying,  "  You  are  guilty  of  this."  He  made  no  re 
ply,  but  took  it,  and  put  it,  with  a  smile,  into  his 
pocket  (from  which,  of  course,  I  drew  it  out).  What 
an  odd  fancy,  to  turn  Aristsenetus  into  verse !  Hal- 
hed,  who  assisted  Sheridan  in  that  translation,  pub 
lished  imitations  of  Martial,  and  some  of  them  are 
very  good. 

I  have  seen  Sheridan  in  company  with  the  fa 
mous  Pamela.f  She  was  lovely — quite  radiant 
with  beauty ;  and  Sheridan  either  was,  or  pretended 
to  be  violently  in  love  with  her.  On  one  occasion, 
I  remember  that  he  kept  labouring  the  whole  even 
ing  at  a  copy  of  verses  in  French,  which  he  intended 
to  present  to  her,  every  now  and  then  writing  down 

*  Printed,  without  the  translator's  name,  in  1771. — ED. 

•j-  Madame  de  Genlis's  adopted  daughter,  who  was  married  at 
Tournay,  in  1792,  to  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald.  According  to 
Madame  de  Genlis,  in  her  Memoirs,  two  days  before  she  and 
Pamela  left  England,  Sheridan  declared  himself,  in  her  presence, 
the  lover  of  Pamela,  who  accepted  his  hand  with  pleasure ;  and  it 
was  settled  that  they  should  be  married — "  on  our  return  from 
France,  which  was  expected  to  take  place  in  a  fortnight."  See 
Memoirs  of  Sheridan,  vol.  ii.  196,  ed.  1827,  by  Moore,  who  suspects,  not 
without  good  reason,  that  in  this  affair  Sheridan  was  only  amusing 
himself. — ED. 


68  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

a  word  or  two  on  a  slip  of  paper  with,  a  pencil.  The 
best  of  it  was,  that  he  understood  French  very  im 
perfectly. 

I  prefer  Sheridan's  Rivals  to  his  School  for  Scan 
dal  :  exquisite  humour  pleases  me  more  than  the 
finest  wit. 

Sheridan  was  a  great  artist :  what  could  be  more 
happy  in  expression  than  the  last  of  these  lines  ?  you 
may  see  it  illustrated  in  the  Park  every  Sunday : — 

"  Hors'd  in  Cheapside,  scarce  yet  the  gayer  spark 
Achieves  the  Sunday  triumph  of  the  Park ; 
Scarce  yet  you  see  him,  dreading  to  be  late, 
Scour  the  New  Road  and  dash  through  Grosvenor  Gate ; 
Anxious — yet  timorous  too — his  steed  to  show, 
The  hack  Bucephalus  of  Rotten  Row. 
Careless  he  seems,  yet  vigilantly  sly, 
Woos  the  stray  glance  of  ladies  passing  by. 
While  his  off-heel,  insidiously  aside, 
Prowlces  the  caper  which  he  seems  to  chide"* 

I  regret  that  Moore  should  have  printed  those 
memoranda  which  prove  how  painfully  Sheridan  ela- 


*  Prologue  to   Pizarro  (but  originally  written  for,  and  spokeii 
before,  Lady  Craven's  Sfimatert  Picture). — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  69 

borated  his  compositions  ;  for,  though  the  judicious 
few  will  feel  that  Sheridan  was  quite  right  in  doing 
so,  the  public  generally  will  think  the  less  of  him 
for  it. — "No  wonder  that  those  memoranda  were  ex 
tant  :  Sheridan  was  in  the  habit  of  putting  by,  not 
only  all  papers  written  by  himself,  but  all  others 
that  came  into  his  hands.  Ogle  told  me  that,  after 
his  death,  he  found  in  his  desk  sundry  unopened 
letters  written  by  his  (Ogle's)  mother,  who  had  sent 
them  to  Sheridan  to  be  franked. 

Sheridan  did  not  display  his  admirable  powers  in 
company  till  he  had  been  warmed  by  wine.  During 
the  earlier  part  of  dinner  he  was  generally  heavy  and 
silent ;  and  I  have  heard  him,  when  invited  to  drink 
a  glass  of  wine,  reply,  "No,  thank  you;  I'll  take — a 
little  small  beer."  After  dinner,  when  he  had  had 
a  tolerable  quantity  of  wine,  he  was  brilliant  indeed. 
But  when  he  went  on  swallowing  too  much,  he  be 
came  downright  stupid  :  and  I  once,  after  a  dinner 
party  at  the  house  of  Edwards  the  bookseller  in 
Pall  Mall,  walked  with  him  to  Brookes's,  when  he 
had  absolutely  lost  the  use  of  speech. 

Sheridan,  Sir  Walter  (then  Mr.)  Scott,  and 
Moore  were  one  day  dining  with  me,  and  Sheridan 


70  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

was  talking  in  his  very  best  style,  when,  to  my  great 
vexation,  Moore  (who  has  that  sort  of  restlessness 
which  never  allows  him  to  be  happy  where  he  is) 
suddenly  interrupted  Sheridan  by  exclaiming, 
"Isn't  it  time  to  go  to  Lydia  "White's?"* 

During  his  last  illness,  the  medical  attendants 
apprehending  that  they  would  be  obliged  to  per 
form  an  operation  on  him,  asked  him  "if  he  had 
ever  undergone  one." — "  Never,"  replied  Sheridan, 
"  except  when  sitting  for  my  picture,  or  having  my 
hair  cut." 

Sheridan  had  very  fine  eyes,  and  he  was  not  a 
little  vain  of  them.  He  said  to  me  on  his  death 
bed,  "Tell  Lady  Besborough  that  my  eyes  will  look 
up  to  the  coffin-lid  as  brightly  as  ever." 

*  Miss  Lydia  White  (long  since  dead)  was  a  lady  who  de 
lighted  in  giving  parties  to  as  many  celebrated  people  as  she  could 
collect.  The  following  instance  of  her  readiness  in  reply  was  com 
municated  to  me  by  my  friend  the  Rev.  W.  Harness.  "At  one  of 
Lydia  White's  small  and  most  agreeable  dinners  in  Park  Street,  the 
company  (most  of  them,  except  the  hostess,  being  Whigs)  were  dis 
cussing  in  rather  a  querulous  strain  the  desperate  prospects  of  their 
party.  '  Yes,'  said  Sidney  Smith,  '  we  are  in  a  most  deplorable 
condition  :  we  must  do  something  to  help  ourselves ;  I  think  we  had 
better  sacrifice  a  Tory  virgin.'  This  was  pointedly  addressed  to  Lydia 
White,  who,  at  once  catching  and  applying  the  allusion  to  Iphigenia, 
answered,  '  I  believe  there  is  nothing  the  Whigs  would  not  do  to  raise 
the  icind?" — ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS. 

Soon  after  his  death,  Lord  Holland  wrote  a  short 
biographical  sketch  of  him,  in  which  it  is  stated  that 
he  showed  during  the  closing  scene  a  deep  sense  of 
devotion.  But,  on  my  asking  the  Bishop  of  London, 
who  had  been  called  in  to  read  prayers  to  him,  what 
were  the  religious  feelings  of  Sheridan  in  his  last 
moments,  the  answer  was,  "  I  had  no  means  of  know 
ing  ;  for  when  I  read  the  prayers,  he  was  totally 
insensible  ;  Mrs.  Sheridan  raising  him  up,  and  join 
ing  his  hands  together."  * 

In  his  dealings  with  the  world,  Sheridan  cer 
tainly  carried  the  privileges  of  genius  as  far  as  they 
were  ever  carried  by  man. 


We  used  all  to  read  and  like  Tickell's  Wreath  of 

*  Let  us  hear,  however,  what  Smyth  says  on  this  point  in  his 
(privately-printed)  Memoir  of  Mr.  Sheridan.  "But  the  next  day 
he  [Sheridan]  was  not  hetter,  and  I  never  saw  him.  I  talked  about 
him,  while  I  sat  with  Mrs.  Sheridan ;  as  much,  at  least,  as  I  thought 
she  chose.  I  durst  not  ask  much.  She  told  me  she  had  sent  for 
her  friend,  Dr.  Howley,  then  Bishop  of  London,  who  had  instantly 
come  up  from  Oxfordshire  to  pray  by  him.  '  And  Mr.  Sheridan,'  I 
ventured  to  say,  '  what  of  him  ? '  'I  never  saw,'  she  replied,  '  such 
awe  as  there  was  painted  in  his  countenance — I  shall  never  forget 
it.' "  p.  68. — ED. 


72  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

Fashion,  and  his  other  pieces,  as  they  came  out.  I 
can  still  repeat  several  of  the  songs  in  his  opera,  The 
Carnival  of  Venice,*  though  they  are  only  so-so : 
here  is  part  of  one  of  them ; 

"  Soon  as  the  busy  day  is  o'er, 

And  evening  comes  with  pleasant  shade, 
We  gondoliers,  from  shore  to  shore, 
Merrily  ply  onr  jovial  trade; 

And  while  the  moon  shines  on  the  stream, 
And  as  soft  music  breathes  around, 

The  feathering  oar  returns  the  gleam, 
And  dips  in  concert  to  the  sound. 

Down  by  some  convent's  mouldering  walls 

Oft  we  bear  th'  enamour'd  youth  ; 
Softly  the  watchful  fair  he  calls, 

Who  whispers  vows  of  love  and  truth,"  &c. 


It  is  quite  true,  as  stated  in  several  accounts  of 
him,  that  Fox,  when  a  very  young  man,  was  a  pro 
digious  dandy, — wearing  a  little  odd  French  hat, 
shoes  with  red  heels,  &c.  He  and  Lord  Carlisle 

*  No  portion  of  this  opera,  except  the  songs,  was  ever  printed. — 
See  note,  p.  64. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  73 

once  travelled  from  Paris  to  Lyons  for  the  express 
purpose  of  buying  waistcoats ;  and  during  the  whole 
journey  they  talked  about  nothing  else. 

Fox  (in  his  earlier  days,  I  mean),  Sheridan,  Fitz- 
patrick,  &c.,  led  such  a  life  !  Lord  Tankerville  as 
sured  me  that  he  has  played  cards  with  Fitzpatrick 
at  Brookes's  from  ten  o'clock  at  night  till  near  six 
o'clock  the  next  afternoon,  a  waiter  standing  by  to 
tell  them  "whose  deal  it  was,"  they  being  too 
sleepy  to  know. 

After  losing  large  sums  at  hazard,  Fox  would  go 
home, — not  to  destroy  himself,  as  his  friends  some 
times  feared,  but — to  sit  down  quietly,  and  read 
Greek. 

He  once  won  about  eight  thousand  pounds ;  and 
one  of  his  bond-creditors,  who  soon  heard  of  his 
good  luck,  presented  himself,  and  asked  for  pay 
ment  "Impossible,  sir,"  replied  Fox;  "I  must 
first  discharge  my  debts  of  honour."  The  bond- 
creditor  remonstrated.  "Well,  sir,  give  me  your 
bond."  It  was  delivered  to  Fox,  who  tore  it  in 
pieces  and  threw  them  into  the  fire.  "  Now,  sir," 
said  Fox,  "my  debt  to  you  is  a  debt  of  honour;' 
and  immediately  paid  him. 


74  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

When  I  became  acquainted  with  Fox,  he  had 
given  up  that  kind  of  life  entirely,  and  resided  in 
the  most  perfect  sobriety  and  regularity  at  St.  Anne's 
Hill.  There  he  was  very  happy,  delighting  in  study, 
in  rural  occupations  and  rural  prospects.  He  would 
break  from  a  criticism  on  Person's  Euripides  to  look 
for  the  little  pigs.  I  remember  his  calling  out  to 
the  Chertsey  hills,  when  a  thick  mist  which  had  for 
some  time  concealed  them,  rolled  away,  "Good 
morning  to  you !  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again." 
There  was  a  walk  in  his  grounds  which  led  to  a  lane 
through  which  the  farmers  used  to  pass ;  and  he 
would  stop  them,  and  talk  to  them,  with  great  in 
terest,  about  the  price  of  turnips,  &c.  I  was  one 
day  with  him  in  the  Louvre,  when  he  suddenly 
turned  from  the  pictures,  and,  looking  out  at  the 
window,  exclaimed,  "This  hot  sun  will  burn  up  my 
turnips  at  St.  Anne's  Hill. 

In  London  mixed  society  Fox  conversed  little ; 
but  at  his  own  house  in  the  country,  with  his  inti 
mate  friends,  he  would  talk  on  for  ever,  with  all  the 
openness  and  simplicity  of  a  child :  he  has  continued 
talking  to  me  for  half-an-hour  after  he  had  taken 
up  his  bed-room  candle. — I  have  seen  it  somewhere 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  75 

stated  that  Fox  liked  to  talk  about  great  people  : 
nothing  can  be  more  untrue ;  he  hardly  ever  al 
luded  to  them.  I  remember,  indeed,  that  he  once 
mentioned  to  me  Queen  Charlotte,  calling  her  "  that 
bad  woman." 

He  was  very  shy,  and  disliked  being  stared  at. 
Windham  and  I  accompanied  him  one  night  to 
Vauxhall,  where  he  was  much  annoyed  at  being 
followed  about,  as  a  spectacle,  from  place  to  place. 
On  such  occasions  he  was  not  only  shy,  but  gauche. 

One  morning  at  his  own  house,  while  speaking 
to  me  of  his  travels,  Fox  could  not  recollect  the 
name  of  a  particular  town  in  Holland,  and  was  much 
vexed  at  the  treacherousness  of  his  memory.  He 
had  a  dinner-party  that  day ;  and,  just  as  he  had 
applied  the  carving  knife  to  the  sirloin,  the  name  of 
the  town  having  suddenly  occurred  to  him,  he  roared 
out  exultingly,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  company, 
"  Gorcum,  Gorcum ! " 

Fox  saw  Yoltaire  at  Ferney.  Their  interview 
was  described  to  me  in  a  letter  by  Uvedale  Price,* 
who  went  there  with  Kim :  but  unfortunately  I  no 

*  Created  a  baronet  in  1828. — A  small  portion  of  that  letter, 
about  Fox's  visit  to  Voltaire,  has  lately  been  printed  in  Memorials 
and  Correspondence  of  C.  J.  Fox,  edited  by  Lord  J.  Russell,  vol.  i.  46. 


76  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

longer  possess  that  letter  ;  I  lent  it  to  Lord  Holland, 
and  never  could  get  it  back. 

— An  account  of  the  same  visit,  from  the  pen  of  the  same  writer, 
occurs  in  a  letter  to  my  unfortunate  friend  the  late  E.  H.  Barker, 
dated  March  24,  1827,  from  which  I  shall  not  scruple  to  make  a  long 
extract : — 

"But  among  the  characters  of  the  second  generation  so  ably 
drawn  by  Mr.  Butler  [in  his  Reminiscences],  to  me  much  the  most 
interesting  is  that  of  Charles  Fox.  Our  friendship  and  intimacy, 
which  began  at  Eton,  continued  without  interruption  through  life. 
While  Etonians,  we  acted  together  in  the  plays  given  at  Holland 
House,  which,  from  the  high  character  and  connections  of  its  owner, 
from  the  premature  talents  of  C.  Fox,  two  years  younger  than  myself, 
and  from  the  peculiarly  lovely  countenance  and  sweet-toned  voice  of 
Lady  Sarah  Lenox,  our  Jane  Shore  (whom,  as  Gloucester,  I  could 
hardly  bring  myself  to  speak  to  as  harshly  as  my  character  required), 
these  plays  had  at  the  time  great  celebrity.  "We  were  at  Oxford  to 
gether,  were  almost  constantly  together  at  Florence,  where  we  studied 
Italian  under  the  same  master  at  the  same  time. 

"  From  Rome  we  travelled  together  along  the  eastern  coast  to 
Venice,  and  thence  to  Turin,  where  we  met  by  appointment  our  ex 
cellent  friend  and  schoolfellow,  Lord  Fitzwilliam,  who  is  mentioned 
by  Mr.  Butler  in  a  few  words,  but  most  impressively,  as  spoken  of 
him  by  Fox.  All  this,  I  am  aware,  can  have  little  interest  for  you  • 
but  having  the  excuse  of  Mr.  Butler's  reminiscences,  I  have  in 
dulged  myself  in  putting  down  mine,  as  they  recall  a  period  of  great 
and  unmixed  delight.  I  then  witnessed  daily  and  hourly  that 
characteristic  good  nature,  that  wariji  and  unalterable  attachment 
to  his  friends  of  which  Mr.  B.  speaks  in  so  impressive  a  manner : 
and  likewise  witnessed  on  more  than  one  occasion,  what  was  no 
less  characteristic,  his  abhorrence  of  any  thing  like  tyranny,  oppres 
sion,  or  cruelty.  Having  got  so  far  on  my  journey,  I  shall  e'en 
proceed  with  it:  from  Turin  we  all  three  set  out  for  Geneva,  but 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   EOGEKS.  77 

It  is  well  known  that  Fox  visited  Gibbon  at  Lau 
sanne  ;  and  he  was  much  gratified  by  the  visit. 
Gibbon,  he  said,  talked  a  great  deal,  walking  up  anc^ 
down  the  room,  and  generally  ending  his  sentences 
with  a  genitive  case ;  every  now  and  then,  too,  casting 
a  look  of  complacency  on  his  own  portrait  by  Sir  Jo 
shua  Reynolds,  which  hung  over  the  chimney-piece, 
— that  wonderful  portrait,  in  which,  while  the  odd- 
ness  and  vulgarity  of  the  features  are  refined  away, 
the  likeness  is  perfectly  preserved. — Fox  used  to  say 
that  Gibbon's  History  was  immortal,  because  nobody 
could  do  without  it, — nobody,  without  vast  expense 
of  time  and  labour,  could  get  elsewhere  the  informa- 

went  out  of  our  direct  road  to  that  most  singular  and  striking  place, 
the  Grande  Chartreuse,  so  finely  described  in  Gray's  Alcaic  Ode. 
From  Geneva  Fox  and  I  went  to  Voltaire  at  Ferney,  having  ob 
tained  a  permission  then  seldom  granted.  It  is  an  event  in  one's 
life  to  have  seen  and  heard  that  extraordinary  man  :  he  was  old  and 
infirm,  and,  in  answer  to  Fox's  note  and  request,  said  that  the  name 
of  Fox  was  sufficient,  and  that  he  could  not  refuse  seeing  us,  '  mais 
que  nous  venions  pour  Fexterrer.'  He  conversed  in  a  lively  manner, 
walking  with  us  to  and  fro  in  a  sort  of  alley ;  and  at  parting  gave  us 
a  list  of  some  of  his  works,  adding,  '  Ce  sont  des  livres  de  quoi  U  faut  se 
munir,'  they  were  such  as  would  fortify  our  young  minds  against  re 
ligious  prejudices.  Fox  quitted  us  at  Geneva,  went  to  England,  and 
commenced  his  political  career.  I  went  with  Fitzwilliam  through  the 
finest  parts  of  Switzerland,  and  then  down  the  Rhine  to  Spa,  and  met 
him  again  at  Paris :  and  there  ends  my  foreign  journal,  and  high 
time  it  should." 


78  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

tion  which  it  contains. — I  think,  and  so  Lord  Gren- 
ville  thought,  that  the  introductory  chapters  are  the 
••finest  part  of  that  history  :  it  was  certainly  more 
difficult  to  write  them  than  the  rest  of  the  work. 

Fox  had  the  highest  admiration  of  Lord  North  ; 
he  considered  him  a  consummate  debater.  He 
thought  very  highly  too  of  Dr.  Laurence's  speeches  ; 
and  said  that  they  only  failed  in  making  a  deep  im 
pression  because  his  manner  of  delivery  was  so  bad. 
He  disliked  Sheridan's  famous  speeches  at  Has- 
tings's  trial :  *  yet  they  fascinated  Burke ;  and  to 
them  Fox  attributed  the  change  of  style  which  is 
visible  in  Burke's  later  compositions.  He  did  not 
greatly  admire  Burke's  celebrated  Reflections. 

ISTever  in  my  life  did  I  hear  any  thing  equal  to 
Fox's  speeches  in  reply, — they  were  wonderful. — 
Burke  did  not  do  himself  justice  as  a  speaker  :  his 
manner  was  hurried,  and  he  always  seemed  to  be 
in  a  passion.f — Pitt's  voice  sounded  as  if  he  had 
worsted  in  his  mouth. 

*  In  Westminster  Hall. — It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that 
the  perhaps  more  famous  speech  in  the  House  of  Commons,  7th  Feb. 
1787,  in  which  Sheridan  brought  forward  against  Hastings  the  charge 
relative  to  the  Begum  Princesses  of  Oude,  was  publicly  eulogised  by 
Fox  as  a  matchless  piece  of  eloquence. — ED. 

t  "  Burke,"  said  Mr.  Maltby  (see  notice  prefixed  to   the  Porso- 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGEK6.  79 

Person  said  that  "  Pitt  carefully  considered  his 
sentences  before  he  uttered  them ;  but  that  Fox 
threw  himself  into  the  middle  of  his,  and  left  it  to 
God  Almighty  to  get  him  out  again.  "* 

Malone  was  one  day  walking  down  Dover  Street 
with  Burke,  when  the  latter  all  at  once  drew  him 
self  up  and  carried  his  head  aloft  with  an  air  of 
great  hauteur.  Malone  perceived  that  this  was  oc 
casioned  by  the  approach  of  Fox,  who  presently 
passed  them  on  the  other  side  of  the  street.  After 
Fox  had  gone  by,  Burke  asked  Malone  very  eager 
ly,  "  Did  he  look  at  me?" 

Fox  once  said  to  me  that  "  Burke  was  a  most 
impracticable  person,  a  most  unmanageable  col 
league, — that  he  never  would  support  any  measure, 
however  convinced  he  might  be  in  his  heart  of  its 

niana  in  this  volume),  "  always  disappointed  me  as  a  speaker.  I  have 
heard  him,  during  his  speeches  in  the  House,  make  use  of  the  most 
vulgar  expressions,  such  as  '  three  nips  of  a  straw,'  '  three  skips  of  a 
louse,'  &c. ;  and,  on  one  occasion  when  I  was  present,  he  introduced, 
as  an  illustration,  a  most  indelicate  story  about  a  French  king,  who 
asked  his  physician  why  his  natural  children  were  so  much  finer  than 
his  legitimate." — ED. 

*  Person  was  thinking  of  Sterne.     "  I  begin  with  writing  the  first 
sentence — and  trusting  to  Almighty  God  for  the  second."     Tristram 
/,  vol.  v.  192,  ed.  1775.— ED. 


80  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

utility,  if  it  had  been  first  proposed  by  another  :  "  * 
and  he  once  used  these  very  words,  "After  all, 
Burke  was  a  damned  wrong-headed  fellow,  through 
his  whole  life  jealous  and  obstinate." 

Mrs.  Crewef  told  me  that,  on  some  occasion, 
when  it  was  remarked  that  Fox  still  retained  his 
early  love  for  France  and  every  thing  French,  Burke 
said,  "  Yes ;  he  is  like  a  cat, — he  is  fond  of  the 
house,  though  the  family  be  gone." 

I  once  dined  at  Mr.  Stone's  (at  Hackney)  with 
Fox,  Sheridan,  Talleyrand,  Madame  de  Genlis,  Pa 
mela,  and  some  other  celebrated  persons  of  the  time. 
A  natural  son  of  Fox,  a  dumb  boy  (who  was  the 
very  image  of  his  father,  and  who  died  a  few  years 
after,  when  about  the  age  of  fifteen)  was  also  there, 
having  come,  for  the  occasion,  from  Braidwood's 
Academy.  To  him  Fox  almost  entirely  confined  his 
attention,  conversing  with  him  by  the  fingers  :  and 

*  Cassius.  But  what  of  Cicero  ?  shall  we  sound  him  ? 
I  think  he  will  stand  very  strong  with  us. 
*******  * 

Brutus.  0  name  him  not :  let  us  not  break  with  him  ; 
For  Tie  mill  never  follow  any  thing 
That  other  men  begin" 

Shakespeare's  Julias  Ccesar,  act.  ii.  sc.  1. — ED. 
t  Afterwards  Lady  Crewe. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  81 

their  eyes  glistened  as  they  looked  at  each  other. 
Talleyrand  remarked  to  me,  "  how  strange  it  was,  to 
dine  in  company  with  the  first  orator  in  Europe,  and 
only  see  him  talk  with  his  fingers  !  " — That  day  I 
offended  Madame  de  Genlis  by  praising  the  Contes 
Moraux  of  Marmontel,  with  whom  she  had  quar 
relled  violently. 

At  a  dinner-party,  where  I  was,  Fox  met  Aikin? 
"  I  am  greatly  pleased  with  your  Miscellaneous 
Pieces,  Mr.  Aikin,"  said  Fox  (alluding  to  the  volume 
written  partly  by  Aikin,  and  partly  by  his  sister  Mrs. 
Barbauld).  Aikin  bowed.  "  I  particularly  admire," 
continued  Fox,  "  your  essay  Against  Inconsistency 
in  our  Expectations"  "That,"  replied  Aikin,  "is 
my  sister's." — "  I  like  much,"  resumed  Fox,  "  your 
essay  On  Monastic  Institutions."  "  That,"  answered 
Aikin,  "  is  also  my  sister's."  Fox  thought  it  best 
to  say  no  more  about  the  book. 

I  was  present  at  a  dinner-party  given  by  William 
Smith  in  Westminster,  when  Fox  would  not  take 
the  slightest  notice  of  Home  Tooke, — would  not 
look  at  him,  nor  seem  to  hear  any  of  the  good  things 
he  said.  It  was  the  most  painful  scene  of  the  kind 
\  was  ever  witness  to,  except  what  occurred  at  my 

4* 


82  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

own  house,  when  the  Duke  of  Wellington  treated 
Lord  Holland  much  in  the  same  way. 

At  another  of  Smith's  dinners,  the  conversation 
turned  on  Wilberforce ;  when  somebody  put  the 
query, — If  "Wilberforce  were  compelled  to  desert 
either  the  cause  of  the  slaves,  or  the  party  of  Mr. 
Pitt,  to  which  would  he  adhere  ?  "  Oh,"  said  Fox, 
"  he  would  be  for  Barabbas."  But  that  was  said  by 
Fox  merely  as  a  joke  ;  for  he  greatly  respected  Pitt ; 
and  I  remember  that,  011  another  occasion  at  Smith's, 
when  Tierney,  &c.,  endeavoured  to  persuade  Fox 
that  Pitt  was  not  uttering  his  real  sentiments  about 
the  abolition  of  the  slave-trade,  he  would  not  be  so 
persuaded.* — Pitt,  too,  had  the  highest  respect  for 
Fox.  One  night,  after  Fox  had  been  speaking,  Lord 
Dudley,  coming  out  of  the  house  with  Pitt,  began 
to  abuse  Fox's  speech.  "  Don't  disparage  it,"  said 
Pitt ;  "  nobody  could  have  made  it  but  himself." 

The  Duke  of  Richmond,  Fox,  and  Burke,  were 
once  conversing  about  history,  philosophy,  and  poe 
try.  The  Duke  said,  "  I  prefer  reading  history  to 

*  "  During  the  debates  on  the  war  with  France,  I  heard  Fox  char 
acterise  a  speech  of  Pitt,  as  '  one  that  would  have  excited  the  admira 
tion  and  envy  of  Demosthenes.' "  MR.  MALTBY  (see  note  prefixed  to 
the  Parsoniana  in  this  volume). — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGEKS.  83 

philosophy  or  poetry,  because  history  is  truth."  Both 
Fox  and  Burke  disagreed  with  him  :  they  thought 
that  poetry  was  truth,  being  a  representation  of  hu 
man  nature :  and  Fox  had  some  thoughts  of  writing 
an  essay  on  the  subject. — Lady  Glenbervie  told  me 
that  her  father  Lord  North  disliked  reading  history, 
because  he  always  doubted  its  truth.* 

In  1792  the  Duke  of  Portland  called  a  meet 
ing  of  the  Whigs  at  Burlington  House,  to  consider 
the  propriety  of  their  supporting  the  Proclamation 
against  seditious  writings  and  democratical  conspi 
racies.  Francis  Duke  of  Bedford  went  there.  On 
entering  the  room,  he  said  to  the  Duke  of  Portland, 
"Is  Mr.  Fox  here?"  ". No."— "Has  he  been  in 
vited?"  "  No."— "  Then,"  replied  the  Duke  of 
Bedford,  "  I  must  wish  you  all  good  morning : "  and 
immediately  withdrew,  f  The  Duke  of  Bedford  was 

*  "  Thinking  to  amuse  my  father  once,  after  his  retirement  from 
the  ministry,  I  offered  to  read  a  book  of  history.  '  Any  thing  hut 
history,'  said  he  ;  l  for  history  must  he  false. "  Wdpoliana,  vol.  i.  60. 
—Er>. 

f  Many  years  after  I  had  written  down  this  anecdote,  Mr.  Rogers 
remarked  to  me  "how  poorly"  it  is  told  in  Lord  Holland's  Memoirs  of 
the  Whig  Party,  i.  16  (1852) :  "  The  Duke  of  Bedford,  on  hearing  that 
Mr.  Fox  was  not  likely  to  come,  drily  observed,  '  Then  I  am  sure  I 
have  nothing  to  do  here,'  and  left  the  room." — ED. 


84:  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

stanch  to  his  principles  till  the  hour  of  his  death  ; 
and  we  owe  him  much. 

Fox  used  to  declare  of  himself  that  he  was  "  a 
most  painstaking  person."  When  he  came  into  of 
fice,  finding  that  his  handwriting  was  very  bad,  he 
took  lessons  to  improve  it. 

He  one  day  pronounced  himself  to  be  a  bad 
carver,  and,  when  Mrs.  Fox  confirmed  it,  he  said, 
"  Yes,  my  dear,  I  thought  you'd  agree  with  me." 

I  saw  Lunardi  make  the  first  ascent  in  a  balloon 
which  had  been  witnessed  in  England.  It  was  from 
the  Artillery  Ground.  Fox  was  there  with  his 
brother  General  F.  The  crowd  was  immense.  Fox, 
happening  to  put  his  hand  down  to  his  watch,  found 
another  hand  upon  it,  which  he  immediately  seized. 
"  My  friend,"  said  he  to  the  owner  of  the  strange 
hand,  "  you  have  chosen  an  occupation  which  will  be 
your  ruin  at  last." — "  O,  Mr.  Fox,"  was  the  reply, 
"  forgive  me,  and  let  me  go  !  I  have  been  driven  to 
this  course  by  necessity  alone ;  my  wife  and  children 
are  starving  at  home."  Fox,  always  tender-hearted, 
slipped  a  guinea  into  the  hand,  and  then  released  it. 
On  the  conclusion  of  the  show,  Fox  was  proceeding 
to  look  what  o'clock  it  was.  "  Good  God,"  cried  he, 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  85 

"my  watch  is  gone!" — "Yes,"  answered  General 
F.,  "I  know  it  is ;  I  saw  your  friend  take  it."- 
"  Saw  him  take  it !  and  you  made  no  attempt  to 
stop  him?" — "Really,  you  and  he  appeared  to  be 
on  such  good  terms  with  each  other,'  that  I  did  not 
choose  to  interfere." 

I  was  walking  through  the  Louvre  with  Fox,  when 
he  all  but  cut  Mackintosh,  passing  him  with  a  nod 
and  a  "  How  d'ye  do  ? "  and  he  gave  me  to  under 
stand  that  he  had  done  so  because  he  was  angry  at 
Mackintosh  for  having  accepted  a  place  in  India  from 
the  Tories.  Fitzpatrick,  however,  told  me  the  real 
cause  of  Fox's  anger ;  and  it  was  this ;— Mrs.  Mackin 
tosh  had  not  called  upon  Mrs.  Fox,  whom  Fox  had  re 
cently  acknowledged  as  his  wife.  Such  slight  things 
sometimes  influence  the  conduct  of  great  men. 

Most  unfortunately,  one  morning  during  break 
fast  at  St.  Anne's  Hill,  I  repeated  and  praised  Gold 
smith's  song,  "  When  lovely  woman  stoops  to  folly," 
&c.,  quite  forgetting  that  it  must  necessarily  hurt 
the  feelings  of  Mrs.  Fox.  She  seemed  a  good  deal 
discomposed  by  it.  Fox  merely  remarked,  "  Some 
people  write  damned  nonsense." 

When  Buonaparte  said  to  Fox,  he   was   con- 


86  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

vinced  that  Wmdham  was  implicated  in  the  con 
trivance  of  the  Infernal  Machine,  Fox  warmly  re 
pelled  such  an  aspersion  on  Windham's  character, 
assuring  the  First  Consul  that  no  Englishman  would 
degrade  himself  by  being  concerned  in  so  vile  a 
business.  I  told  this  to  Windham,  who  answered  very 
coldly,  "  Well,  I  should  have  said  the  same  of  him 
under  similar  circumstances." — I  have  heard  Wind- 
ham  speak  very  disrespectfully  of  Fox  in  the  House, 
after  their  political  quarrel. 

Fox  said  that  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  never  enjoyed 
Richmond,* — that  he  used  to  say  the  human  face 
was  Ms  landscape.  Fox  did  not  much  admire  Sir 
Joshua's  pictures  in  the  grand  style  ;  he  greatly  pre 
ferred  those  of  a  playful  character :  he  did  not  like 
much  even  the  Ugolino ;  but  he  thought  the  boys 
in  the  Nativity  were  charming. 

Once,  at  Paris,  talking  to  Fox  about  Le  Sueur's 
pictures,  I  said  that  I  doubted  if  any  artist  had  ever 
excelled  Le  Sueur  in  painting  white  garments.  Fox 
replied  that  he  thought  Andrea  Sacchi  superior  to 

*  Where  Reynolds  had  a  villa. — In  Mr.  Rogers's  collection  of  pic 
tures  is  an  exquisite  landscape  by  Sir  Joshua — a  view  from  Richmond 
Hill,  with  the  features  of  the  scene  a  little  altered. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   KOGERS.  87 

Le  Sueur  in  that  respect.  I  mention  this  to  show 
that  Fox  was  not  only  fond  of  painting,  but  had 
given  minute  attention  to  it.* 

He  was  an  eager  chess-player :  I  have  heard  him 
say,  on  coming  down  to  breakfast,  that  he  had  not 
been  able  to  sleep  for  thinking  about  some  par 
ticular  move. 

"While  young  Betty  was  in  all  his  glory,  I  went 
with  Fox  and  Mrs.  Fox,  after  dining  with  them  in 
Arlington  Street,  to  see  him  act  Hamlet ;  and,  dur 
ing  the  play-scene,  Fox,  to  my  infinite  surprise,  said, 
"This  is  finer  than  Garrick."f — How  wise  it  was  in 
Kemble  and  Mrs.  Siddons  quietly  to  withdraw  from 
the  stage  during  the  Betty  furor,  and  then  as  quietly 
to  return  to  it,  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  occurred ! 

*  For  an  account  of  the  delight  which  Fox  received  from  visiting 
the  Louvre,  see  Trotter's  Memoirs  of  Fox,  p.  209. — ED. 

t  Such  criticism  will  now  seem  (and  undoubtedly  is)  preposter 
ous.  But  we  must  recollect  that  there  was  a  marvellous  charm 
about  the  young  Roscius.  "  Northcote  then  spoke  of  the  boy,  as  he 
always  calls  him  (Master  Betty).  He  asked  if  I  had  ever  seen  him 
act ;  and  I  said,  Yes,  and  was  one  of  his  admirers.  He  answered, 
'  Oh !  yes,  it  was  such  a  beautiful  effusion  of  natural  sensibility  ;  and 
then  that  graceful  play  of  the  limbs  in  youth  gave  such  an  advantage 
over  every  one  about  him.  Humphreys  (the  artist)  said,  he  had  never 
seen  the  little  Apollo  off  the  pedestal  before.' "  Hazlitt's  Conversations 
yf  Northcote,  p.  23. — ED. 


88  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THF 

Fox  said  that  Barry's  Romeo  was  superior  to 
Garrick's. 

"  If  I  had  a  son,"  observed  Fox,  "  I  should  insist 
on  his  frequently  writing  English  verses,  whether 
he  had  a  taste  for  poetry  or  not,  because  that  sort  of 
composition  forces  one  to  consider  very  carefully 
the  exact  meanings  of  words." 

I  introduced  Wordsworth  to  Fox,  having  taken 
him  with  me  to  a  ball  given  by  Mrs.  Fox.  "  I  am 
very  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Wordsworth,  though  I  am 
not  of  your  faction,"  was  all  that  Fox  said  to  him, — 
meaning  that  he  admired  a  school  of  poetry  different 
from  that  to  which  Wordsworth  belonged. 

Fox  considered  Burnet's  style  to  be  perfect.  We 
were  once  talking  of  an  historian's  introducing  oc 
casionally  the  words  of  other  writers  into  his  work 
without  marking  them  as  quotations,  when  Fox  said, 
"  that  the  style  of  some  of  the  authors  so  treated 
might  need  a  little  mending,  but  that  Burnet's  re 
quired  none." 

He  thought  that  Robertson's  account  of  Colum 
bus  was  very  pleasingly  written. 

He  was  so  fond  of  Dryden,  that  he  had  some  idea 
)f  editing  his  works.  It  was  absurd,  he  said,  not  to 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  89 

print  the  originals  by  Chaucer  along  with  Dryden's 
versions  of  them ;  and  absurd  in  Malone  to  print  all 
Dryden's  Prefaces  by  themselves.  "  Dryden's  imi 
tations  of  Horace,"  he  would  say,  "  are  better  than 
the  originals  :  how  fine  this  is  ! — 

Happy  the  man,  and  happy  he  alone, 
He  who  can  call  to-day  his  own ; 
He  who,  secure  within,  can  say, 
To-morrow,  do  thy  worst,  for  I  have  liv'd  to-day ; 

Be  fair  or  foul,  or  rain  or  shine, 
The  joys  I  have  possess'd,  in  spite  of  Fate,  are  mine ; 

Not  Heaven  itself  upon  the  past  has  power, 
But  what  has  been,  has  been,  and  I  have  had  my  hour.'  "  * 

One  forenoon,  at  his  own  house,  Fox  was  talk 
ing  to  me  very  earnestly  about  Dryden,  when  he 
suddenly  recollected  that  (being  in  office)  he  ought 
to  make  his  appearance  at  the  King's  levee.  It  was 
so  late  that,  not  having  time  to  change  his  dress,  he 
set  off  for  Buckingham  House,  "accoutred  as  he 
was ; "  and  when  somebody  remarked  to  him  that 
his  coat  was  not  quite  the  thing,  he  replied,  "  No 

*  Twenty-ninth  Ode  of  the  First  Book  of  Horace  paraphrased,  &c. 

—ED. 


90  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

matter ;  lie  [i.  e.  George  the  Third]  is  so  blind  that 
he  can't  distinguish  what  I  have  on." 

There  was  a  period  of  his  life  when  Fox  used  to 
say  that  he  could  not  forgive  Milton  for  having  oc 
casioned  him  the  trouble  of  reading  through  a  poem 
(Paradise  Lost),  three  parts  of  which  were  not  worth 
reading.  He  afterwards,  however,  estimated  it  more 
j  ustly.*  Milton's  prose  works  he  never  could  endure. 

He  said  that  Mrs.  Sheridan's  Sidney  BiddulpJi 
was  the  best  of  all  modern  novels.  (By  the  by,  Sher 
idan  used  to  declare  that  he  had  never  read  it !  f ) 

When  Fox  was  a  young  man,  a  copy  of  Mas- 
singer  accidentally  fell  into  his  hands :  he  read  it, 
and,  for  some  time  after,  could  talk  of  nothing  but 
Massinger. 

He  thought  so  highly  of  the  Isacco  of  Metasta- 
sio,  that  he  considered  it  as  one  of  the  four  most 
beautiful  compositions  produced  during  the  century ; 

*  In  a  letter  to  Trotter,  after  noticing  the  predominance  of  "the 
grand  and  terrific  and  gigantic"  in  .ZEschylus,  Fox  continues;  "This 
never  suits  my  taste ;  and  I  feel  the  same  objection  to  most  parts 
of  the  Paradise  Lost,  though  in  that  poem  there  are  most  splendid 
exceptions,  Eve,  Paradise,  &c."  Trotter's  Memoirs  of  Fox,  p.  520. 
—ED. 

f  The  incident,  in  The  School  for  Scandal,  of  Sir  Oliver's  presenting 
himself  to  his  relations  in  disguise,  is  manifestly  taken  by  Sheridan 
from  his  mother's  novel. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  91 

the  other  three  being  Pope's  Eloisa  to  Abelard,  Vol 
taire's  Zaire,  and  Gray's  Elegy* 

"  No  one,"  said  Fox,  "  could  be  an  ill-tempered 
man  who  wrote  so  much  nonsense  as  Swift  did." 

His  admiration  of  Ariosto  was  extreme. — He 
thought  Petrarch's  Latin  letters  better  than  his 
Sonnets. 

He  once  pointed  out  to  me,  as  excellent,  this 
passage  of  Paley.  "  The  distinctions  of  civil  life  are 
almost  always  insisted  upon  too  much,  and  urged  too 
far.  Whatever,  therefore,  conduces  to  restore  the 
level,  by  qualifying  the  dispositions  which  grow  out 
of  great  elevation  or  depression  of  rank,  improves 
the  character  on  both  sides.  Now  things  are  made 
to  appear  little  by  being  placed  beside  what  is 
great.  In  which  manner,  superiorities,  that  occupy 
the  whole  field  of  the  imagination,  will  vanish  or 
shrink  to  their  proper  diminutiveness,  when  com 
pared  with  the  distance  by  which  even  the  highest 
of  men  are  removed  from  the  Supreme  Being,  and 
this  comparison  is  naturally  introduced  by  all  acts 
of  joint  worship.  If  ever  the  poor  man  holds  up  his 

*  Yet,  we  have  been  told,  Fox  did  not  consider  the  Elegy  as  Gray's 
best  poem :  see  p.  36. — ED. 


92  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

head,  it  is  at  church ;  if  ever  the  rich  man  views  him 
with  respect,  it  is  there :  and  both  will  be  the  bet 
ter,  and  the  public  profited,  the  oftener  they  meet 
in  a  situation,  in  which  the  consciousness  of  dignity 
in  the  one  is  tempered  and  mitigated,  and  the  spirit 
of  the  other  erected  and  confirmed."* 

Fox  used  to  read  Homer  through  once  every 
year.  On  my  asking  him,  "  Which  poem  had  you 
rather  have  written,  the  Iliad  or  the  Odyssey  f  "  he 
answered,  "I  know  which  I  had  rather  read" 
(meaning  the  Odyssey  f). 

Euripides  was  his  grand  favorite  among  the 
Greek  poets.  He  fancied  that  Shakespeare  must 
have  met  with  some  translation  of  Euripides,^:  for  he 
could  trace  resemblances  between  passages  of  their 
dramas :  e.  g.  what  Alcestis  in  her  last  moments  says 
about  her  servants  is  like  what  the  dying  Queen 
Katharine  (in  Henry  the  Eighth)  says  about  hers,  &c. 

He  considered  the  (Edipus  Coloneus  as  the  best 
play  of  Sophocles;  and  he  admired  greatly  his  Electro,. 

He  did  not  much  like  Caesar's  Commentaries  ; 

*  Mar.  and  Pol.  Philosophy,  b.  v.  ch.  4. — ED. 

•j-  "I  suppose,"  says  Fox,  in  a  letter  to  Trotter,  "as  soon  as  you 
have  done  the  Iliad,  you  will  read  the  Odyssey,  which,  though  certainly 
not  so  fine  a  poem,  is,  to  my  taste,  still  pleasanter  to  read."  Trotter's 
Memoirs  of  Fox,  p.  494. — ED.  \  A  mere  fancy. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  93 

they  appeared  to  him  rather  dry  and  deficient  in 
thought.  He  said  that  the  letter  to  Oppius  and 
Balbus,*  which  is  very  little  known,  was  the  piece 
that  did  Osesar  most  honour  ;  and  that  he  had  once 
transcribed  it  with  the  intention  of  sending  it  to 
Buonaparte,  when  the  news  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien's 
death  made  him  change  his  mind. 

He  observed  that  the  Greek  historians  generally 

*  Extant  in  the  collection  of  Cicero's  Epist.  ad  Att.  lib.  ix.  7.  c. 
It  was  written  at  the  commencement  of  the  civil  war ;  and  (in  the 
translation  of  Heberden)  is  as  follows :  "  I  am  very  glad  that  you 
express  in  your  letter  how  much  you  approve  of  what  has  been  done 
at  Corfinium.  I  shall  willingly  adopt  your  advice ;  and  the  more 
so,  because  of  my  own  accord  I  had  resolved  to  show  every  lenity, 
and  to  use  my  endeavours  to  conciliate  Pompeius.  Let  us  try  by 
these  means  if  we  can  regain  the  affections  of  all  people,  and  ren 
der  our  victory  lasting.  Others  from  their  cruelty  have  not  been 
able  to  avoid  the  hatred  of  mankind,  nor  long  to  retain  their  victory ; 
except  L.  Sulla  alone,  whom  I  do  not  mean  to  imitate.  Let  this  be 
a  new  method  of  conquering,  to  fortify  ourselves  with  kindness  and 
liberality.  How  this  may  be  done,  some  things  occur  to  my  own 
mind,  and  many  others  may  be  found.  To  this  subject  I  request  your 
attention.  I  have  taken  Cn.  Magius,  Pompeius's  prsefect.  I  accord 
ingly  put  in  practice  my  own  principle,  and  immediately  released 
him.  Already  two  of  Pompeius's  prsefects  of  engineers  have  fallen 
into  my  power,  and  have  been  released.  If  they  are  disposed  to  be 
grateful,  they  should  exhort  Pompeius  to  prefer  my  friendship  to  that 
of  these  people,  who  have  always  been  the  worst  enemies  to  him  and 
to  me ;  by  whose  artifices  it  has  happened  that  the  Republic  has  come 
into  this  condition." — ED. 


94:  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

told  nothing  but  truth,  while  the  Latin  historians 
generally  told  nothing  but  lies. 

He  was  a  constant  reader  of  Virgil ;  and  had 
been  so  from  a  very  early  period.  There  is  at  Hol 
land  House  a  copy  of  Virgil  covered  with  Fox's 
manuscript  notes,  written  when  he  was  a  boy,  and 
expressing  the  most  enthusiastic  admiration  of  that 
poet. 

He  once  told  me  that  the  extracts  which  he  had 
seen  from  Hippocrates  had  given  him  a  high  opinion 
of  that  writer  ;  that  one  of  his  aphorisms  was  excel 
lent, — "  The  second-best  remedy  is  better  than  the 
best,  if  the  patient  likes  it  best ;" — and  that  he  in 
tended  to  read  his  works. 

Afterwards,  calling  upon  him  in  Stable  Yard 
when  he  happened  to  be"*ill,  I  found  him  reading 
Hippocrates.— On  that  occasion  I  said  I  wished  that 
the  new  administration  would  put  down  the  east 
wind  by  an  act  of  Parliament.  He  replied,  smiling 
(and  waking,  as  it  were,  from  one  of  his  fits  of  tor 
por),  that  they  would  find  it  difficult  to  do  that,  but 
that  they  would  do  as  much  good  in  that  as  they 
would  in  any  thing  else. 

He  said  that  Lear,  Othello,  and  Macbeth  were 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    KOGEKS.  95 

the  best  of  Shakespeare's  works ;  that  the  first  act 
of  Hamlet  was  pre-eminent ;  that  the  ghost  in  that 
play  was  quite  unequalled, — there  was  nothing  like 
it;  and  that  Hamlet  was  not  mad. — On  another 
occasion  he  said  that  the  character  of  Macbeth  was 
very  striking  and  original, — that  at  first  he  is  an 
object  of  our  pity,  and  that  he  becomes  gradually 
worse  and  worse,  till  at  last  he  has  no  virtue  left 
except  courage. 

He  thought  Raleigh  a  very  fine  writer.  Boling- 
broke  he  did  not  like.  Surrey  was  "  too  old  "  for 
him. 

He  said  that  Congreve's  Way  of  tfo  World  was 
a  charming  comedy,  but  his  Mourning  Bride  alto 
gether  execrable  ;  that  Sheridan's  Pizarro  was  the 
worst  thing  possible. 

He  had  never  been  able  to  read  Mickle's  Lusiad 
through.  He  once  met  Mickle,  and  took  a  dislike 
to  him. 

He  was  fond  of  the  song  "  The  heavy  hours  are 
almost  past,"  by  Lord  Lyttletoii;  whose  son,  he 
said,  was  a  very  bad  man, — downright  wicked. 

He  thought  Mrs.  Barbauld's  Life  of  Richardson 
admirable  ;  and  regretted  that  she  wasted  her  talents 


96  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

in  writing  books  for  children  (excellent  as  those 
books  might  be),  now  that  there  were  so  many 
pieces  of  that  description. 

The  Adventurer,  he  said,  was  very  poor ;  The 
World  far  superior,  and  he  had  read  it  with  pleasure. 

He  thought  Tickell's*  lines  On  the  Death  of 
Addison  quite  perfect ;  and  he  liked  a  large  portion 
of  his  Kensington  Gardens. 

He  often  spoke  with  high  praise  of  Cowper's 
Epistle  to  Joseph  Hill.  It  was  through  Windham  that 
he  first  became  acquainted  with  Cowper's  poetry. 

Yery  shortly  before  he  died,  he  complained  of 
great  uneasiness  in  his  stomach ;  and  Cline  advised 
him  to  try  the  effects  of  a  cup  of  coffee.  It  was 
accordingly  ordered ;  b  at,  not  being  brought  so  soon 
as  was  expected,  Mrs.  Fox  expressed  some  impa 
tience  ;  upon  which  Fox  said,  with  his  usual  sweet 
smile,  "Hemember,  my  dear,  that  good  coffee  can 
not  be  made  in  a  moment." 

Lady  Holland  announced  the  death  of  Fox  in 
her  own  odd  manner  to  those  relatives  and  intimate 


*  "  Tickell's  merit,"  Wordsworth  remarked  to  me,  "  is  not  suffi 
ciently  known.  I  think  him  one  of  the  very  hest  writers  of  occa 
sional  verses." — ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  97 

friends  of  his  who  were  sitting  in  a  room  near  his 
bed-chamber,  and  waiting  to  hear  that  he  had 
breathed  his  last ; — she  walked  through  the  room 
with  her  apron  thrown  over  her  head. 

Trotter's  Memoirs  of  Fox,  though  incorrect  in 
some  particulars,  is  a  very  pleasing  book.  Trotter 
died  in  Ireland ;  he  was  reduced  to  great  straits ; 
and  Mrs.  Fox  sent  him,  at  different  times,  as  much 
as  several  hundred  pounds,  though  she  could  ill 
spare  the  money. 

How  fondly  the  surviving  friends  of  Fox  cher 
ished  his  memory  !  Many  years  after  his  death,  I 
was  at  a  fete  given  by  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  at 
Chiswick  House.  Sir  Robert  Adair  and  I  wandered 
about  the  apartments,  up  and  down  stairs.  "  In 
which  room  did  Fox  expire  ?  "  asked  Adair.  I  re 
plied,  "  In  this  very  room."  Immediately  Adair 
burst  into  tears  with  a  vehemence  of  grief  such  as 
I  hardly  ever  saw  exhibited  by  a  man. 

Fox's  History  of  the  Early  Part  of  the  Reign 
of  James  the  Second  has  been  greatly  undervalued ; 
but  it  will  be  properly  estimated  in  future  times.  It 
contains  charming  passages.  Here  are  two  :  when 
I  read  them,  I  seem  to  listen  to  Fox  conversing  : — 

5 


98  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   TIIE 

"From  the  execution  of  the  king  to  the  death  of 
Cromwell,  the  government  was,  with  some  variation 
of  forms,  in  substance  monarchical  and  absolute,  as 
a  government  established  by  a  military  force  will 
almost  invariably  be,  especially  when  the  exertions 
of  such  a  force  are  continued  for  any  length  of  time. 
If  to  this  general  rule  our  own  age,  and  a  people 
whom  their  origin  and  near  relation  to  us  would  al 
most  warrant  us  to  call  our  own  nation,  have  afforded 
a  splendid  and  perhaps  a  solitary  exception,  we  must 
reflect  not  only,  that  a  character  of  virtues  so  happily 
tempered  by  one  another,  and  so  wholly  unalloyed 
with  any  vices,  as  that  of  "Washington,  is  hardly  to 
be  found  in  the  pages  of  history,  but  that  even 
Washington  himself  might  not  have  been  able  to 
act  his  most  glorious  of  all  parts,  without  the  exist 
ence  of  circumstances  uncommonly  favourable,  and 
almost  peculiar  to  the  country  which  was  to  be 
the  theatre  of  it.  Virtue  like  his  depends  not  in 
deed  upon  time  or  place ;  but  although  in  no 
country  or  time  would  he  have  degraded  himself 
into  a  Pisistratus,  or  a  Caesar,  or  a  Cromwell,  he 
might  have  shared  the  fate  of  a  Cato  or  a  De  Witt; 
or,  like  Ludlow  and  Sydney,  have  mourned  in 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  99 

exile  the  lost  liberties  of  his  country."  * — The  other 
passage  is  this:— 

"But  to  Temple's  sincerity  his  subsequent  con 
duct  gives  abundant  testimony.  When  he  had  rea 
son  to  think  that  his  services  could  no  longer  be 
useful  to  his  country,  he  withdrew  wholly  from 
public  business,  and  resolutely  adhered  to  the  pre 
ference  of  philosophical  retirement,  which,  in  his 
circumstances,  was  just,  in  spite  of  every  temptation 
which  occurred  to  bring  him  back  to  the  more  ac 
tive  scene.  The  remainder  of  his  life  he  seems  to 
have  employed  in  the  most  noble  contemplations 
and  the  most  elegant  amusements ;  every  enjoyment 
heightened,  no  doubt,  by  reflecting  on  the  honoura 
ble  part  he  had  acted  in  public  affairs,  and  without 
any  regret  on  his  own  account  (whatever  he  might 
feel  for  his  country)  at  having  been  driven  from 
them."  f 


Burke  said  to  Mrs,  Crewe  :  %  "  A  dull  proser  is 
more  endurable  than  a  dull  joker." 

He  also  said  to  her  :  "  England  is  a  moon  shone 

*  P.  17.— ED.  f  P.  26.— ED. 

t  Afterwards  Lady  Crewe. — ED. 


100  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

upon  by  France.  France  has  all  things  within  her 
self;  and  she  possesses  the  power  of  recovering  from 
the  severest  blows.  England  is  an  artificial  coun 
try  :  take  away  her  commerce,  and  what  has  she  ? " 


Foote  was  once  talking  away  at  a  party,  when  a 
gentleman  said  to  him,  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr. 
Foote,  but  your  handkerchief  is  half-out  of  your 
pocket." — "  Thank  you,  sir,"  answered  Foote ;  "you 
know  the  company  better  than  I  do." 

Fox  told  me  that  Lord  William  Bentinck  once 
invited  Foote  to  meet  him  and  some  others  at  dinner 
in  St.  James's  Street ;  and  that  they  were  rather 
angry  at  Lord  William  for  having  done  so,  expect 
ing  that  Foote  would  prove  only  a  bore,  and  a  check 
on  their  conversation.  "But,"  said  Fox,  "we  soon 
found  that  we  were  mistaken :  whatever  we  talked 
about, — whether  fox-hunting,  the  turf,  or  any  other 
subject, — Foote  instantly  took  the  lead,  and  de 
lighted  us  all." 

Murphy  who  used  to  dwell  with  enthusiasm  on 
his  recollections  of  Chatham's  oratory,  was  once  in 
the  gallery  of  the  House  with  Foote,  when  Pitt 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  101 

(Lord  Chatham)  was  putting  forth  all  his  power  in 
an  attack  on  Murray  (Lord  Mansfield).  "  Shall  we 
go  home  now?"  said  Murphy, — "]STo,"  replied 
Foote  ;  "let  us  wait  till  he  has  made  the  little  man 
(Murray)  vanish  entirely." 

There  was  no  end  to  Foote's  jokes  about  Gar- 
rick's  parsimony.  "Garrick,"  said  Foote,  "lately 
invited  Hurd  to  dine  with  him  in  the  Adelphi ;  and 
after  dinner,  the  evening  being  very  warm,  they 
walked  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  house.  As  they 
passed  and  re-passed  the  dining-room  windows,  Gar- 
rick  was  in  a  perfect  agony ;  for  he  saw  that  there 
was  a  thief  in  one  of  the  candles  which  were  burn 
ing  on  the  table :  and  yet  Hurd  was  a  person  of 
such  consequence  that  he  could  not  run  away  from 
him  to  prevent  the  waste  of  his  tallow." 

At  the  Chapter  Coffee-house,  Foote  and  his 
friends  were  making  a  contribution  for  the  relief  of 
a  poor  fellow  (a  decayed  player,  I  believe),  who  was 
nick-named  the  Captain  of  the  Four  Winds,  because 
his  hat  was  worn  into  four  spouts.  Each  person  of 
the  company  dropped  his  mite  into  the  hat,  as  it 
was  held  out  to  him.  "If  Garrick  hears  of  this." 
said  Foote,  "he  will  certainly  send  us  his  hat." 


102  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

The  then  Duke  of  Cumberland  (the  foolish  * 
Duke,  as  he  was  called)  came  one  night  into  Foote's 
green-room  at  the  Haymarket  Theatre.  "  Well, 
Foote,"  said  he,  "  here  I  am,  ready,  as  usual,  to 
swallow  all  your  good  things." — "  Upon  my  soul," 
replied  Foote,  "  your  Royal  Highness  must  have  an 
excellent  digestion,  for  you  never  bring  any  up 
again." 


During  my  youth  I  used  to  go  to  the  Hampstead 
Assemblies,  which  were  frequented  by  a  great  deal 
of  good  company.  There  I  have  danced  four  or  five 
minuets  in  one  evening. 

Beau  Nash  was  once  dancing  a  minuet  at  Bath 
with  a  Miss  Lunn.  She  was  so  long  of  giving  him 
both  her  hands  (the  figure  by  which  the  lady,  when 
she  thinks  proper,  brings  the  performance  to  a  close), 
that  he  lost  all  patience,  and,  suiting  the  words  to 
the  tune  (which  was  Marshal  Seme's  minuet),  he 
sung  out,  as  she  passed  him, — 

"  Miss  Lunn,  Miss  Lunn, 
"Will  you  never  have  done  ?  " 


*  For  a  vindication  of  his  Royal  Highness  from  this  epithet,  see 
Boaden's  Life  of  Kemble,  ii.  17.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL    KOGERS.  103 

I  always  distrust  the  accounts  of  eminent  men 
by  their  contemporaries.  None  of  us  lias  any  reason 
to  slander  Homer  or  Julius  Ceesar  ;  but  we  find  it 
very  difficult  to  divest  ourselves  of  prejudices  when 
we  are  writing  about  persons  with  whom  we  have 
been  acquainted. 


Lord  St.  Helens  (who  had  been  ambassador  to 
Kussia)  told  me,  as  a  fact,  this  anecdote  of  the 
Empress  Catherine.  She  frequently  had  little 
whist-parties,  at  which  she  sometimes  played,  and 
sometimes  not.  One  night,  when  she  was  not  play 
ing,  but  walking  about  from  table  to  table,  and 
watching  the  different  hands,  she  rang  the  bell  to 
summon  the  page-in-waiting  from  an  ante-chamber. 
No  page  appeared.  She  rang  the  bell  again ;  and 
again  without  effect.  Upon  this,  she  left  the  room, 
looking  daggers,  and  did  not  return  for  a  very  con 
siderable  time;  the  company  supposing  that  the 
unfortunate  page  was  destined  for  the  knout  or  Si 
beria.  On  entering  the  ante-chamber,  the  Empress 
found  that  the  page,  like  his  betters,  was  busy  at 
whist,  and  that,  when  she  had  rung  the  bell,  he 
happened  to  have  so  very  interesting  a  hand  that 


104:  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  quit  it.  Now, 
what  did  the  Empress  do  ?  she  despatched  the  page 
on  her  errand,  and  then  quietly  sat  down  to  hold 
his  cards  till  he  should  return. 

Lord  St.  Helens  also  told  me  that  he  and  Segur 
were  with  the  Empress  in  her  carriage,  when  the 
horses  took  fright,  and  ran  furiously  down  hill.  The 
danger  was  excessive.  When  it  was  over  the  Em 
press  said,  "Mon  etoile  vous  a  sauvee." 


Hare's  wit,  once  so  famous,  owed  perhaps  not  a 
little  to  his  manner  of  uttering  it.  Here  is  a  speci 
men.  Fox  was  sitting  at  Brookes's,  in  a  very  moody 
humour,  having  lost  a  considerable  sum  at  cards, 
and  was  indolently  moving  a  pen  backwards  and 
forwards  over  a  sheet  of  paper.  "  What  is  he  draw 
ing?"  said  some  one  to  Hare.  "Any  thing  but  a 
draft,"  was  the  reply. 

General  Fitzpatrick  was  at  one  time  nearly  as 
famous  for  his  wit  as  Hare.  During  the  latter  part 
of  his  long  life  he  had  withdrawn  a  good  deal  from 
society.  I  took  farewell  of  him  the  day  but  one 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  105 

before  lie  died.  On  the  day  immediately  preceding 
his  death,  I  walked  to  his  house  in  Arlington  Street 
to  inquire  for  him  ;  and,  just  as  I  reached  the  door, 
Mrs.  Fox  was  coming  from  it,  sobbing  violently. 

Jekyll,  too,  was  celebrated  for  his  vit :  but  it 
was  of  that  kind  which  amuses  only  for  the  moment. 
I  remember  that  when  Lady  Cork  gave  a  party  at 
which  she  wore  a  most  enormous  plume,  Jekyll  said, 
"  She  was  exactly  a  shuttle-cock, — all  cork  and 
feathers." 


While  Rousseau  was  lodging  in  Chiswick  Ter 
race,  Fitzpatrick  called  upon  him  one  day,  and  had 
not  been  long  in  the  room  when  David  Hume  en 
tered.  Rousseau  had  lost  a  favourite  dog ;  and 
Hume,  having  exerted  himself  to  recover  it,  now 
brought  it  back  to  its  master,  who  thanked  him 
with  expressions  of  the  most  fervent  gratitude,  and 
shed  tears  of  joy  over  the  animal. 


Fitzpatrick,  who  had  been  much  in  the  company 
of  David  Hume,  used  always  to  speak  of  him  as  "  a 
delicious  creature." 


5* 


106  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

Hume  told  Cadell  the  bookseller  that  he  had  a 
great  desire  to  be  introduced  to  as  many  of  the  per 
sons  who  had  written  against  him  as  could  be  col 
lected  ;  and  requested  Cadell  to  bring  him  and  them 
together.  Accordingly,  Dr.  Douglas,  Dr.  Adams, 
&c.  &c.,  were  invited  by  Cadell  to  dine  at  his  house 
in  order  to  meet  Hume.  They  came ;  and  Dr. 
Price,  who  was  of  the  party,  assured  me  that  they 
were  all  delighted  with  David. 


I  knew  Murphy  long  and  intimately  :  I  was  in 
troduced  to  him  by  the  Piozzis  at  Streatham. 

On  the  first  night  of  any  of  his  plays,  if  the 
slightest  symptoms  of  disapprobation  were  shown  by 
the  audience,  Murphy  always  left  the  house,  and  took 
a  walk  in  Covent-Garden  Market :  then,  after  having 
composed  himself,  he  would  return  to  the  theatre. 

Garrick  once,  in  conversation  with  Murphy,  hav 
ing  insisted  that  it  was  much  more  difficult  to  write 
a  play  whose  strength  lay  in  the  plot  than  one  which 
depended  on  the  dialogue  for  its  effect,  Murphy 
went  to  his  favourite  haunt,  the  Talbot  at  Richmond, 
and  wrote,  nearly  at  a  single  sitting,  a  comedy  of  the 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEES.  107 

former  description  (I  forget  its  name),  which,  very 
soon  after,  he  presented  to  Garrick. 

The  days  had  been  when  Murphy  lived  in  the 
best  society,  and  used  to  walk  about  arm-in-arm  with 
Lord  Loughborough :  but  I  have  seen  them  meet  in 
the  street,  and  salute  each  other  very  formally. 

Towards  the  close  of  his  life,  till  he  received  a 
pension  of  2001.  per  annum  from  the  king,*  Murphy 
was  in  great  pecuniary  difficulties.  He  had  eaten  him 
self  out  of  every  tavern  from  the  other  side  of  Temple- 
Bar  to  the  west  end  of  the  town.  I  have  still  in  my 
possession  several  bills  of  his  for -money  to  a  consider 
able  amount  which  he  never  repaid  me. — He  had 
borrowed  from  me  two  hundred  pounds  ;  and  a  long 
time  having  elapsed  without  his  taking  any  notice  of 
the  debt,  I  became  rather  uneasy  (for  two  hundred 
pounds  was  then  no  trifling  sum  to  me).  At  last, 
meeting  him  in  Fleet  Street,  I  asked  him  when  he 
should  be  able  to  settle  with  me.  "  Are  you  going 
home  ? "  said  he.  "  Yes,"  I  replied ;  and  we  walked 
to  my  chambers  in  the  Temple.  There,  instead  of 
making  any  arrangements  for  repaying  me,  he  ex- 

*  The  pension  was  granted  to  him  in  1803 :  he  died  in  1805. — 
ED. 


108  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

erted  all  his  eloquence,  but  in  vain,  to  induce  me  to 
lend  him  more  money ;  and  I  thanked  heaven  when 
I  got  rid  of  him. — He  assigned  over  to  me  the  whole 
of  his  works,  including  his  Tacitus ;  and  I  soon  found 
that  he  had  already  disposed  of  them  to  a  bookseller ! 
For  this  transaction  Murphy  came,  in  extreme  agita 
tion,  to  offer  me  a  sort  of  apology,  almost  throwing 
himself  on  his  knees.  When  he  made  his  appear 
ance,  Porson  and  Maltby  *  happened  to  be  in  the 
room ;  f  but,  Porson  having  said  aside  to  Maltby, 
"  We  had  better  withdraw,"  they  left  me  to  my  dis 
agreeable  conference  with  Murphy. 

One  thing  ought  to  be  remembered  to  Murphy's 
honour :  an  actress,:):  with  whom  he  had  lived,  be 
queathed  to  him  all  her  property,  but  he  gave  up 
every  farthing  of  it  to  her  relations. 

Murphy  used  to  say  that  there  were  Four  Estates 
in  England,  the  King,  the  Lords,  the  Commons,  and 
— the  Theatres.  He  certainly  would  not  say  so,  if 
he  were  alive  now,  when  the  national  theatre  is 
almost  extinct. 


*  See  notice  prefixed  to  the  Porsoniana  in  this  volume. — ED. 
f  Mr.  Rogers  was  then  lodging  in  Prince's  Street,  Hanover  Square ; 
from  which  he  removed  to  St.  James's  Place. — ED. 
t  Miss  Elliot.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  109 

Henderson  was  a  truly  great  actor  ;  his  Hamlet 
and  his  Falstaff  were  truly  good.  He  was  a  very 
fine  reader  too  ;  in  his  comic  readings  superior,  of 
course,  to  Mrs.  Siddons  ;  his  John  Gilpin  was  mar 
vellous. 

He  would  frequently  produce  very  unexpected 
"effects"  in  his  readings:  for  instance,  in  the  pas 
sage  of  Collins's  Ode  to  Fear,  — 

"  Or  throws  him  on  the  ridgy  steep 
Of  some  loose-hanging  rock  to  sleep  ;  "- 

he  would  suddenly  pause  after  the  words  "  loose- 
hanging  rock,"   and  then,   starting  back  as  if  in 
amazement,  and  lifting  his  arms 
would  slowly  add—  «  to  sleep  !  "  * 

Library* 


During  his  boyhood,  Pitt  was  very 
his  physician,  Addington  (Lord  Sidmouth's  father) 
ordered  him  to  take  port  wine  in  large  quantities  : 
the  consequence  was,  that,  when  he  grew  up,  he 
could  not  do  without  it.  Lord  Grenville  has  seen 

*  I  must  be  allowed  to  observe,  that  I  do  not  agree  with  Mr. 
Rogers  in  admiring  the  effect  in  question.  It  was  certainly  not  in 
tended  by  the  Poet.  —  ED. 


110  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

him  swallow  a  bottle  of  port  in  tumblerfuls,  before 
going  to  the  House.  This,  together  with  his  habit 
of  eating  late  suppers  (indigestible  cold  veal-pies, 
&c.),  helped  undoubtedly  to  shorten  his  life.  Hus- 
kisson,  speaking  to  me  of  Pitt,  said  that  his  -hands 
shook  so  much,  that,  when  he  helped  himself  to  salt, 
he  was  obliged  to  support  the  right  hand  with  the 
left. 

Stothard  the  painter  happened  to  be  one  evening 
at  an  inn  on  the  Kent  Koad,  when  Pitt  and  Dundas 
put  up  there  on  their  way  from  "Walmer.  Next 
morning,  as  they  were  stepping  into  their  carriage, 
the  waiter  said  to  Stothard,  "  Sir,  do  you  observe 
these  two  gentlemen?" — "Yes,"  he  replied;  "  and 
I  know  them  to  be  Mr.  Pitt  and  Mr.  Dundas." — 
"  Well,  sir,  how  much  wine  do  you  suppose  they 
drank  last  night  ?  " — Stothard  could  not  guess. — 
"  Seven  bottles,  sir." 

Lord  Grenville  once  said  to  Pitt,  "  I  am  really 
astonished  at  your  fluency  in  public  speaking :  how 
was  it  acquired?  "  He  replied,  "  I  believe  it  may  be 
attributed  to  this  circumstance  :  when  I  was  a  lad, 
my  father  used  every  evening  to  make  me  translate 
freely,  before  him  and  the  rest  of  the  family,  those 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  Ill 

portions  of  Livy,  Yirgil,  &c.,  which  I  had  read  in 
the  morning  with  my  tutor,  Mr.  Wilson." — Lord 
Grenville  engaged  a  reporter  to  take  down  Pitt's 
speeches  ;  but  the  reporter  completely  failed. 

Pitt  had  been  accustomed  when  a  boy  to  go  a- 
bird-nesting  at  Holwood,  and  hence  (according  to 
Lord  Grenville)  his  wish  to  possess  that  place ;  which 
he  eventually  did. 

I  was  assured  by  Lord  Grenville  that  Pitt  came 
into  office  with  a  fixed  determination  to  improve  the 
finances  of  the  kingdom;  instead  of  which  he 
greatly  injured  them. 

I  don't  remember  having  heard  of  any  fion-moti 
being  uttered  by  Pitt  in  society ;  and  those  persons 
who  were  very  intimate  with  him  could  tell  me 
little  in  favour  of  his  conversational  powders :  one 
great  lady  who  knew  him  well,  said  that  he  was  gen 
erally  quite  silent  in  company ;  and  a  second  could 
give  me  no  other  information  about  him,  but  that 
(being  a  tali  man)  "  he  sat  very  high  at  table  !  " 

There  was  a  run  on  the  Bank,  and  Pitt  was  un 
certain  what  measures  to  take  in  consequence  of  it. 
He  passed  the  whole  night  (as  Mrs.  -  -  told  me) 
in  walking  up  and  down  his  drawing-room.  ISText 


112  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

morning  he  sent  for  certain  bankers,  and  informed 
them  that  he  had  resolved  on  issuing  five-pound 
notes. — I  recollect  a  farmer  coming  to  my  father's 
bank,  and  receiving  his  money  in  five-pound  notes. 
" "What  can  I  do  with  these  ?  "  he  exclaimed;  "how 
can  I  pay  my  men  with  them  ? " 

Wilberforce  requested  Pitt  to  read  Butler's  Ana 
logy.*  Pitt  did  so  ;  and  was  by  no  means  satisfied 
with  the  reasoning  in  it.  "  My  dear  "Wilberforce," 
he  said,  k'  you  may  prove  any  thing  by  analogy." 


Combe,  author  of  The  Didboliad,  of  LordLyttel- 
ton's  Letters,  and,  more  recently,  of  Doctor  Syntax's 
Three  Tours^  was  a  most  extraordinary  person. 
During  a  very  long  life,  he  had  seen  much  of  the 

*  "  One  evening,  at  a  party,  when  Butler's  Analogy  was  men 
tioned,  Parr  said  in  his  usual  pompous  manner,  '  I  shall  not  declare, 
before  the  present  company,  my  opinion  of  that  book.'  Bowles, 
who  was  just  then  leaving  the  room,  muttered,  '  Nobody  cares  what 
you  think  of  it.'  Parr,  overhearing  him,  roared  out,  'What's  that 
you  say,  Bowles  ? '  and  added,  as  the  door  shut  on  the  offender,  '  It's 
lucky  that  Bowles  is  gone  !  for  I  should  have  put  him  to  death.' " 
MR.  MALTBY  (see  notice  prefixed  to  the  Parsoniana  in  this  volume). 
—ED. 

f  And  of  an  astonishing  number  of  other  works — all  published 
anonymously. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGERS.  113 

world, — its  ups  and  downs.  He  was  certainly  well- 
connected.  Fitzpatrick  recollected  him  at  Douay 
College.*  He  moved  once  in  the  highest  society,  and 
was  very  intimate  with  the  Duke  of  Bedford.  Twenty 
thousand  pounds  were  unexpectedly  bequeathed  to 
him  by  an  old  gentleman,  who  said  "  he  ought  to 
have  been  Combe's  father"  (that  is,  he  had  been  on 
the  point  of  marrying  Combe's  mother),  and  who 
therefore  left  him  that  large  sum.  Combe  contrived 
to  get  rid  of  the  money  in  an  incredibly  short  time. 
Combe  was  staying  at  the  house  of  Uvedale 
Price  ;  f  and  the  Honourable  Mr.  St.  John  (author 
of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  £  was  there  also.  The  lat 
ter,  one  morning,  missed  some  bank-notes.  Price, 
strongly  suspecting  who  had  taken  them,  mentioned 
the  circumstance  to  Combe,  and  added,  "  Perhaps  it 
would  be  as  well  if  you  cut  short  your  visit  here." — 

*  According  to  The  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  August,  1823,  p.  185 
(where  his  name  is  wrongly  spelled  Coombe),  "he  was  educated  at 
Eton  and  Oxford : "  which  is  not  inconsistent  with  his  having  been  at 
Douay  also.  But  there  seems  to  be  great  uncertainty  about  the  par 
ticulars  of  his  life. — ED. 

f  Afterwards  a  baronet. — ED. 

\  A  very  dull  tragedy,  in  which  Mrs.  Siddons  continued  to  act  the 
heroine  occasionally  up  to  the  time  of  her  retirement  from  the  stage. 

—ED. 


114:  KECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  replied  Combe  with  the  greatest 
coolness ;  "  and  allow  me  just  to  ask,  whether  hence 
forth  we  are  to  be  friends  or  acquaintances  ?  " — 
"  Acquaintances,  if  you  please,"  said  Price.* — Long 
after  this  had  happened,  I  was  passing  through  Lei 
cester  Square  with  Price,  when  we  met  Combe :  we 
both  spoke  to  him ;  but  from  that  hour  he  always 
avoided  me. 

Combe  assured  me  that  it  was  with  him,  not  with 
Sterne,  that  "  Eliza"  f  was  in  love  ;  that  he  used  to 
meet  her  often  beside  a  windmill  near  Brighton : 
that  he  was  once  surprised  in  her  bed-chamber,  and 
fled  through  the  window,  leaving  one  of  his  shoes 

*  From  the  tone  of  some  letters  written  by  Combe  in  his  old 
age,  one  would  certainly  not  suppose  that  he  had  on  his  conscience 
any  thing  of  the  kind  above  alluded  to.  "  The  only  solid  happiness 
in  this  life,"  he  says,  "is  the  performance  of  duty;  the  rest,  when 
compared  with  it,  is  not  worth  a  regret  or  a  remembrance. 
A  thousand  hours  of  pleasurable  gratification  will  weigh  but  as  dust 
in  the  balance  against  one  hour  of  solid  virtue.  .  .  .  Few  men 
have  enjoyed  more  of  the  pleasures  and  brilliance  of  life  than  myself; 
and  you,  I  well  know,  will  believe  me,  when  I  assure  you  that,  in 
looking  back  upon  it,  the  brightest  intervals  of  it  are  those  wherein 
I  resisted  inclination,  checked  impetuosity,  overcame  temptation, 
frowned  folly  out  of  countenance,  or  shed  a  tear  over  the  unfortunate." 
Letters  to  Marianne,  p.  7. — ED. 

•j-  A  list  of  Combe's  writings,  drawn  up  by  himself,  and  printed 
in  The  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  May  1852,  p.  467,  includes  "  Letters 
supposed  to  have  passed  between  Sterne  and  Eliza,  2  vols." — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOG-ERS.  115 

behind  him ;  that,  some  days  after,  he  encountered 
her  as  she  was  walking  with  a  party  on  what  is  now 
the  Steyne  (at  Brighton),  and  that,  as  she  passed  him, 
she  displayed  from  her  muff  the  toe  of  his  shoe ! 

Combe  died  in  the  King's  Bench,*  where  it  was 
said  that  he  had  taken  refuge  in  order  to  cheat  his 
ci  editors. — erroneously,  for  he  did  not  leave  enough 
to  pay  the  expenses  of  his  funeral. 


Gibbon  took  very  little  exercise.  He  had  been 
staying  some  time  with  Lord  Sheffield  in  the  coun 
try  ;  and  when  he  was  about  to  go  away,  the  ser 
vants  could  not  find  his  hat.  "  Bless  me,"  said  Gib 
bon,  "  I  certainly  left  it  in  the  hall  on  my  arrival 
here."  He  had  not  stirred  out  of  doors  during  the 
whole  of  the  visit. 


These  lines  by  Bishop  (Head-master  of  Merchant 
Tailor's  School)  are  very  good  in  their  way : — 

*  He  died,  June  19th,  1823,  at  his  apartments  in  Lambeth  Road, 
in  his  82d  year.  See  The  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  August  1823, 
p.  185.— ED. 


116  RECOLLECTIONS   OF  THE 

"  To  Mrs.  Bishop,  with  a  Present  of  a  Knife. 
1 A  knife,'  dear  girl,  '  cuts  love,'  they  say ! 
Mere  modish  love,  perhaps  it  may ; 
For  any  tool  of  any  kind, 
Can  separate — what  was  never  join'd. 

The  knife  that  cuts  our  love  in  two 
Will  have  much  tougher  work  to  do  ; 
Must  cut  your  softness,  truth,  and  spirit. 
Down  to  the  vulgar  size  of  merit ; 
To  level  yours  with  modern  taste, 
Must  cut  a  world  of  sense  to  waste  ; 
And  from  your  single  beauty's  store 
Clip  what  would  dizen  out  a  score. 

That  self-same  blade  from  me  must  sever 
Sensation,  judgment,  sight,  for  ever ; 
All  memory  of  endearments  past, 
All  hope  of  comforts  long  to  last ; 
All  that  makes  fourteen  years  with  you 
A  summer, — and  a  short  one  too  j 
All  that  affection  feels  and  fears, 
When  hours  without  you  seem  like  years. 

Till  that  be  done  (and  I'd  as  soon 
Believe  this  knife  will  chip  the  moon), 
Accept  my  present,  undeterr'd, 
And  leave  their  proverbs  to  the  herd. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  117 

If  in  a  kiss — delicious  treat! — 
Your  lips  acknowledge  the  receipt, 
Love,  fond  of  such  substantial  fare, 
And  proud  to  play  the  glutton  there, 
All  thoughts  of  cutting  will  disdain, 
Save  only — '  cut  and  come  again.   ' 


I  never  saw  Paley  ;  but  my  brother  knew  him 
well,  and  liked  him  much.  Paley  used  to  say,  in  his 
broad  dialect,  "  I  am  an  advocate  for  corruption  " 
(that  is,  parliamentary  influence).* 


*  Among  several  anecdotes  of  Paley,  communicated  to  me  long 
ago  by  a  gentleman  who  resided  in  the  neighbourhood,  were  these. — 
When  Paley  rose  in  the  church,  he  set  up  a  carriage,  and,  by  his  wife's 
directions,  his  arms  were  painted  on  the  panels.  They  were  copied 
from  the  engraving  on  a  silver  cup,  which  Mrs.  P.  supposed  to  be  the 
bearings  of  his  family.  Paley  thought  it  a  pity  to  undeceive  his  wife ; 
but  the  truth  was,  he  had  purchased  the  cup  at  a  sale. 

He  permitted — nay,  wished — his  daughters  to  go  to  evening  parties ; 
but  insisted  that  one  of  them  should  always  remain  at  home,  to  give 
her  assistance,  if  needed,  by  rubbing  him,  &c.,  in  case  of  an  attack 
of  the  rheumatic  pains  to  which  he  was  subject.  "  This,"  he  said, 
"  taught  them  natural  affection." 

His  fourth  son  chose  to  be  a  farmer,  and  was  sent  by  his 
father  to  Redburn,  where,  in  order  to  train  him  to  his  business,  he 
was  frequently  employed  in  works  of  manual  labour.  A  friend, 
having  seen  the  young  man  so  occupied,  expressed  his  surprise  at 


118  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

Witticisms  are  often  attributed  to  the  wrong 
people.  It  was  Lord  Chesterfield,  not  Sheridan,  who 
said,  on  occasion  of  a  certain  marriage,  that  "  No 
body's  son  had  married  Everybody's  daughter." 

Lord  Chesterfield  remarked  of  two  persons  danc 
ing  a  minuet,  that  "  they  looked  as  if  they  were 
hired  to  do  it,  and  were  doubtful  of  being  paid." 

I  once  observed  to  a  Scotch  lady,  "  how  desira 
ble  it  was  in  any  danger  to  have  presence  of  mind." 
"  I  had  rather,"  she  rejoined,  "  have  absence  of 
lofty" 


The  mechant  Lord  Lyttelton  used  to  play  all  sorts 
of  tricks  in  his  boyhood.  For  instance,  when  he 
knew  that  the  larder  at  Hagley  happened  to  be  ill 
supplied,  he  would  invite,  in  his  father's  name,  a 
large  party  to  dinner ;  and,  as  the  carriages  drove 
up  the  avenue,  the  old  lord  (concealing  his  vexation 
as  much  as  possible)  would  stand  bowing  in  the  hall, 
to  welcome  his  unwelcome  guests. 

the  circumstance  to  Paley,  who  replied,  "Practice,  practice  is  every 
tiling." 

Of  the  card- playing  Curate  of  G.  and  his  wife,  he  used  to  say  that 
"  they  made  much  more  by  whist  than  by  the  curacy." — ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  119 

There  is  at  Hagley  a  written  account  of  the 
mechant  Lord  Lyttelton's  death,  which  was  read  to 
me  while  on  a  visit  there.  The  statement,  as  far  as 
I  can  recollect,  runs  thus.  One  night,  when  he  was 
in  bed,  a  white  bird,  with  a  voice  like  a  woman's, — 
or  else,  a  female  figure  with,  a  bird  on  her  hand, — 
appeared  to  him,  and  told  him  that  he  must  die  at  a 
particular  hour  on  a  particular  night.  He  related 
the  circumstance  to  some  of  his  friends,  who  en 
couraged  him  in  treating  it  as  a  delusion.  The  fatal 
night  arrived.  He  was  then_at  a  house  (Pitt  Place) 
near  Epsom ;  and  had  appointed  to  meet  a  party  on 
the  downs  next  morning.  His  friends,  without  his 
knowledge,  had  put  back  the  clock.  "  I  shall  cheat 
the  ghost  yet,"  he  said.  On  getting  into  bed,  he 
sent  his  servant  down  stairs  for  a  spoon,  having  to 
take  some  medicine.  When  the  servant  returned, 
Lord  Lyttelton  was  a  corpse.* 


*  In  the  "  Corrections  and  Additions,"  p.  36,  to  Nash's  History 
of  Worcestershire,  is '  an  account  of  Lord  Lyttelton's  vision  and 
death,  more  detailed  than  the  ahove,  hut  not  materially  different. — 
ED. 

Of  Lord  Lyttelton's  ghost  appearing  to  Miles  Peter  Andrews 
(an  anecdote  quite  as  notorious  as  that  ahove)  the  following  account 
was  given  by  Andrews  himself  to  his  most  intimate  friend,  Mr, 


120  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

Frequently,  when  doubtful  how  to  act  in  matters 
of  importance,  I  have  received  more  useful  advice 
from  women  than  from  men.  "Women  have  the  un 
derstanding  of  the  heart ;  which  is  better  than  that 
of  the  head. 


As  I  was  walking  home  one  day  from  my  father's 
bank,  I  observed  a  great  crowd  of  people  streaming 
into  a  chapel  in  the  City  Eoad.  I  followed  them  ; 
and  saw  laid  out,  upon  a  table,  the  dead  body  of  a 
clergyman  in  full  canonicals.  It  was  the  corpse  of 
John  "Wesley;  and  the  crowd  moved  slowly  and 

Morton  the  dramatist,  by  whom  it  was  told  to  me.  "  I  was  at  Rich 
mond  :  and  I  had  not  been  long  in  bed,  when  I  saw  Lord  Lyttelton 
standing  at  the  foot  of  it.  I  felt  no  surprise,  because  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  coming  to  me  at  all  hours  without  previous  announcement. 
I  spoke  to  him  ;  but  he  did  not  answer.  Supposing  that  he  intended, 
as  usual,  to  play  me  some  trick,  I  stooped  out  of  bed,  and  taking  up 
one  of  my  slippers,  I  threw  it  at  him.  He  vanished.  Next  morning, 
I  inquired  of  the  people  of  the  house  when  Lord  Lyttelton  had 
arrived,  and  where  he  was  ?  They  declared  that  he  had  not  arrived. 
He  died  at  the  very  moment  I  saw  him."  A  version  of  this  ghost- 
story,  too,  is  given  by  Nash  (ubi  supra),  who  states  that  Andrews 
addressed  the  ghost,  and  that  "  the  ghost,  shaking  his  head,  said, 
'  It  is  all  over  with  me.' "  But  Mr.  Morton  assured  me  that  he  re 
lated  the  story  exactly  as  he  had  had  it  from  Andrews,  whose  convic 
tion  that  he  had  seen  a  real  spectre  was  proof  against  all  arguments. 
—En. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  121 

silently  round  and  round  the  table,  to  take  a  last 
look  at  that  most  venerable  man.* 


Dr.  Priestley  went  to  Paris  in  company  with 
Lord  Shelburne ;  f  and  he  assured  me  that  all  the 
eminent  Frenchmen  whom  he  met  there  were  en 
tirely  destitute  of  any  religious  belief, — sheer  athe 
ists.  At  a  large  dinner-party  he  asked  his  next 
neighbour,  "  "Who  is  that  gentleman  ?  "  The  answer 

was,  "  It  is ;  and  he  believes  no  more  than  you 

and  I  do" — Marmontel  used  to  read  some  of  his 
unpublished  works  to  parties  of  his  friends,  on  cer 
tain  days,  at  his  own  house.  Priestley,  who  attended 

*  "At  the  desire  of  many  of  his  friends,  his  body  was  carried 
into  the  chapel  the  day  preceding  the  interment,  and  there  lay  in  a 
kind  of  state  becoming  his  person,  dressed  in  his  clerical  habit,  with 
gown,  cassock,  and  band ;  the  old  clerical  cap  on  his  head,  a  Bible 
in  one  hand,  and  a  white  handkerchief  in  the  other.  The  face  was 
placid,  and  the  expression  which  death  had  fixed  upon  his  venerable 
features  was  that  of  a  serene  and  heavenly  smile.  The  crowds  who 
flocked  to  see  him  were  so  great,  that  it  was  thought  prudent,  for  fear 
of  accidents,  to  accelerate  the  funeral,  and  perform  it  between  five  and 
six  in  the  morning,"  &c.  Southey's  Life  of  Wesley,  ii.  562,  ed.  1820. 
Wesley  died  2d  March  1791.— ED. 

f  Afterwards  Marquis  of  Lansdowne — to  whom,  nominally,  Priest 
ley  acted  as  librarian,  but  really  as  his  literary  companion.    It  was  in 
1774  that  they  made  a  tour  to  the  continent. — ED. 
6 


122  KECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

a  few  of  those  readings,  declared  that  Marmontel 
occasionally  gesticulated  with  such  violence,  that  it 
was  necessary  to  keep  out  of  the  reach  of  his  arms, 
for  fear  of  being  knocked  down. 

I  was  intimately  acquainted  with  Dr.  Priestley ; 
and  a  more  amiable  man  never  lived ;  he  was  all 
gentleness,  kindness,  and  humility.  He  was  once 
dining  with  me,  when  some  one  asked  him  (rather 
rudely)  "how  many  books  he  had  published?" 
He  replied,  "  Many  more,  sir,  than  I  should  like  to 
read."  Before  going  to  America  he  paid  me  a 
visit,  passing  a  night  at  my  house.  He  left  Eng 
land  chiefly  in  compliance  with  the  wishes  of  his 
wife. 


When  Home  Tooke  was  at  school,  the  boys 
asked  him  "  what  his  father  was  ? "  Tooke  answered, 
"  M  Turkey  merchant."  (He  was  a  poulterer.) 

He  once  said  to  his  brother,*"  a  pompous  man, 

*  In  repeating  this  anecdote,  Mr.  Rogers  sometimes  substituted 
"cousin"  for  "brother." — Tooke  had  two  brothers.  1.  Benjamin 
Tooke,  who  settled  at  Brentford  as  a  market-gardener,  in  which  line 
he  became  eminent,  and  acquired  considerable  wealth.  2.  Thomas 
Tooke,  who  was  originally  a  fishmonger,  and  afterwards  a  poulterer, 
— a  man,  it  is  said,  of  strong  intellect,  but  certainly  careless  anc! 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEES.  123 

"  You  and  I  have  reversed  the  natural  course  of 
things ;  you  have  risen  by  your  gravity ;  I  have 
sunk  by  my  levity." 

To  Judge  Ashhurst's  remark,  that  the  law  was 
open  to  all,  both  to  the  rich  and  to  the  poor,  Tooke 
replied,  "  So  is  the  London  Tavern." 

He  said  that  Hume  wrote  his  History  as  witches 
say  their  prayers — backwards. 

Tooke  told  me  that  in  his  early  days  a  friend 
gave  him  a  letter  of  introduction  to  D'Alembert  at 
Paris.  Dressed  d-la-mode,  he  presented  the  letter, 
and  was  very  courteously  received  by  D'Alembert, 
who  talked  to  him  about  operas,  comedies,  and  sup 
pers,  &c.  Tooke  had  expected  conversation  on 
very  different  topics,  and  was  greatly  disappointed. 
When  he  took  leave,  he  was  followed  by  a  gentle 
man  in  a  plain  suit,  who  had  been  in  the  room 
during  his  interview  with  D'Alembert,  and  who  had 
perceived  his  chagrin.  "  D'Alembert,"  said  the 
gentleman,  "  supposed  from  your  gay  apparel  that 
you  were  merely  a  petit  maitre"  The  gentleman 
was  David  Hume.  On  his  next  visit  to  D'Alem- 

extravagant ;  and  who  ended  his  career  in  one  of  the  almshouses  be 
longing  to  the  Fishmongers'  Company. — ED, 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

bert,  Tooke's  dress  was  altogether  different ;  and  so 
was  the  conversation.* 

Tooke  went  to  Italy  as  tutor  to  a  young  man  of 
fortune,f  who  was  subject  to  fits  of  insanity,  and 
who  consequently  would  sometimes  occasion  much 
alarm  at  inns  during  the  middle  of  the  night. — While 
residing  at  Genoa,  they  formed  an  acquaintance  with 
an  Italian  family  of  distinction,  by  whom  they  were 
introduced  to  the  best  society  of  the  place.  Tooke 
attached  himself  to  a  lady  of  great  beauty,  becoming 
her  cavalier  servente,  and  attending  her  everywhere. 
After  some  weeks,  at  a  large  evening-party,  he  was 
astonished  to  find  that  the  lady  would  not  speak  to 
him,  and  that  the  rest  of  the  company  avoided  con 
versation  with  him.  "  Now,"  said  Tooke,  "  what  do 
you  imagine  was  the  cause  of  this  ?  Why,  they  had 
discovered  that  I  was  a  Protestant  clergyman  !  But 

*'  Tooke  spent  considerably  more  than  a  year  at  Paris,  while  act 
ing  as  travelling-tutor  to  young  Elwes  (son  of  the  miser) ;  and  he 
afterwards  paid  two  short  visits  to  that  capital  in  company  with  young 
Taylor  (see  next  note).  It  was,  I  apprehend,  on  the  first  of  these 
occasions  that  his  introduction  to  D'Alembert  took  place.  He  was  in 
full  orders  before  he  ever  went  to  the  Continent ;  but  he  always  laid 
aside  the  clerical  dress  at  Dover. — ED. 

f  The  son  of  a  Mr.  Taylor,  who  resided  within  a  few  miles  of 
Brentford. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   KOGEES.  125 

I  was  resolved  not  to  be  brow-beaten ;  and  I  made 
myself  so  agreeable,  that,  before  the  party  broke 
up,  we  were  all  again  on  the  very  best  terms ;  some 
of  them  even  waited  on  me  home,  with  music,  in  a 
sort  of  triumph !  "  * 

Soon  after  Tooke  had  left  Genoa,  he  heard  that 
another  traveller,  who  was  following  the  same  route, 
had  been  assassinated.  This  unfortunate  traveller 
was  mistaken  for  Tooke,  on  whom,  in  consequence 
of  his  intrigue  with  the  lady  at  Genoa,  the  blow  had 
been  intended  to  fall. 

I  have  been  present  when  one  of  Tooke's  daugh 
ters  was  reading  Greek  f  to  him  with  great  facility. 
He  had  made  her  learn  that  language  without  using 
a  grammar, — only  a  dictionary. 

I  paid  five  guineas  (in  conjunction  with  Bod- 
dington)  for  a  loge  at  Tooke's  trial. — It  was  the  cus 
tom  in  those  days  (and  perhaps  is  so  still)  to  place 
bunches  of  strong  smelling  plants  of  different  sorts 
at  the  bar  where  the  criminal  was  to  sit  (I  sup- 

*  One  of  those  letters,  in  which  Wilkes  publicly  addressed  Home 
Tooke,  has  the  following  passage ;  "  Will  you  call  an  Italian  gentle 
man  now  in  town,  your  confidant  during  your  whole  residence  at  Genoa, 
to  testify  the  morality  of  your  conduct  in  Italy  ?  " 

\  Latin,  I  suspect. — ED. 


126  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

pose,  to  purify  the  air  from  the  contagion  of  his 
presence ! ).  This  was  done  at  Tooke's  trial ;  but, 
as  soon  as  he  was  brought  in,  he  indignantly  swept 
them  away  with  his  handkerchief.  The  trial  lasted 
six  days.  Erskine  (than  whom  nobody  had  ever 
more  powder  over  a  jury, — he  would  frequently  ad 
dress  them  as  "  his  little  twelvers  ")  defended  Tooke 
most  admirably :  nay,  he  showed  himself  not  only 
a  great  orator,  but  a  great  actor ;  for,  on  the  fifth 
day,  when  the  Attorney-General,  Eldon,  was  address 
ing  the  jury,  and  was  using  a  line  of  argument 
which  Erskine  had  not  expected  and  could  not  reply 
to  (the  pleading  for  the  prisoner  being  closed),  I  well 
remember  how  Erskine  the  whole  time  kept  turning 
towards  the  jury,  and  by  a  series  of  significant  looks, 
shrugs,  and  shakings  of  his  head,  did  all  he  could  to 
destroy  the  effect  of  what  the  Attorney-General  was 
saying. — After  a  very  long  speech,  Eldon,  with  the 
perspiration  streaming  down  his  face,  came  into  the 
room  where  the  Lord  Mayor  was  sitting,  and  ex 
claimed,  "  Mr.  Tooke  says  that  he  would  like  to  send 
Mr.  Pitt  to  Botany  Bay;  but  it  would  be  more 
merciful  to  make  him  Attorney-General." — When 
Eldon  was  told  that  the  mob  had  taken  away  the 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  127 

horses  from  Erskine's  carriage,  and  drawn  him  home 
in  triumph  to  Sergeants'  Inn,  he  asked  "  If  they  had 
ever  returned  them  f  " 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  trial,  a  daughter  of  one 
of  the  jurymen  was  anxious  to  be  introduced  to 
Tooke  ;  who,  shaking  her  by  the  hand,  said  very 
prettily,  "  I  must  call  you  sister,  for  you  are  the 
daughter  of  one  of  those  to  whom  I  owe  my  life."- 
If  Tooke  had  been  convicted,  there  is  no  doubt  that 
he  would  have  been  hanged.  We  lived  then  under 
a  reign  of  terror. 

One  night  after  dining  with  him  at  Cline's  (the 
surgeon),  I  accompanied  Tooke  to  Brandenburgh 
House  (the  Margravine  of  Anspach's)  to  see  a  pri 
vate  play.  During  the  performance,  a  person  be 
hind  us  said,  "  There's  that  rascal,  Home  Tooke." 
The  words  were  uttered  quite  distinctly ;  and  Tooke 
was  so  offended,  that  he  immediately  withdrew.  I 
went  home  with  him  to  his  house  on  the  Common, 
and  slept  there,  after  sitting  up  very  late  to  listen 
to  his  delightful  talk. 

I  often  dined  with  Tooke  at  Wimbledon ;  and 
always  found  him  most  pleasant  and  most  witty. 
There  his  friends  would  drop  in  upon  him  without 


128  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

any  invitation  :  Colonel  Bosville  would  come  fre 
quently,  bringing  with  him  a  dinner  from  London, 
— fish,  &c. — Tooke  latterly  used  to  expect  two  or 
three  of  his  most  intimate  friends  to  dine  with  him 
every  Sunday ;  and  I  once  offended  him  a  good 
deal  by  not  joining  his  Sunday  dinner-parties  for 
several  weeks. 

Burdett  was,  of  course,  a  great  deal  with  Tooke. 
In  little  things,  Burdett  was  a  very  inconsiderate 
person.  One  forenoon,  when  Tooke  was  extremely 
unwell,  and  a  friend  had  sent  him  some  fine  hot 
house  grapes,  Burdett,  happening  to  call  in,  ate  up 
every  one  of  them. 

Tooke  was  such  a  passionate  admirer  of  Milton's 
prose  works,  that,  as  he  assured  me,  he  had  trail 
scribed  them  all  in  his  youth. 

For  my  own  part,  I  like  Harris's  writings  much. 
But  Tooke  thought  meanly  of  them :  he  would  say, 
"  Lord  Malmesbury  is  as  great  a  fool  as  Ms  father" 

He  used  to  observe,  that  "  though  the  books 
which  you  have  lately  read  may  make  no  strong 
impression  on  you,  they  nevertheless  improve  your 
mind ;  just  as  food,  though  we  forget  what  it  was 
ifter  we  have  eaten  it,  gives  strength  to  the  body." 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   KOGERS.  129 

O,  the  fallibility  of  medical  people  !  Both  Pear 
son  and  Cline,  on  one  occasion,  informed  Tooke  that 
he  could  not  possibly  survive  beyond  a  single  day : 
and — he  lived  years !  * — Let  me  mention  here  what 
was  told  to  me  by  a  lady  at  Clifton.  "In*  my  girl 
hood,"  she  said,  "  I  had  a  very  severe  illness,  during 
which  I  heard  Dr.  Turton  declare  to  my  mother,  in 
the  next  room,  that  I could  not  live.  I  immediately 
called  out,  '  But  I  will  live,  Dr.  Turton  ! '  and  here 
I  am,  now  sixty  years  old." 


*  In  a  note  on  Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson  (p.  562,  ed.  1848), 
relative  to  Lord  Mayor  Beckford's  famous  speech  (or  rather,  re 
joinder)  to  the  king  in  1770,  Mr.  Croker  ohserves ;  "Mr.  Bosville's 
manuscript  note  on  this  passage  says,  '  that  the  mouunlent  records, 
not  the  words  of  Beckford,  but  what  was  prepared  for  him  by  John 
Home  Tooke,  as  agreed  on  at  a  dinner  at  Mr.  George  Bellas's  in 
Doctors'  Commons.'  This,  I  think,  is  also  stated  in  a  manuscript 
note  in  the  Museum  copy ;  but  Mr.  Gifford  says,  '  he  never  uttered 
one  syllable  of  the  speech.'  (Ben  Jonson,  i.  481.)  Perhaps  he  said 
something  which  was  afterwards  put  into  its  present  shape  by  Home 
Tooke." — In  Stephens's  Memoirs  of  Home  Tooke  (vol.  i.  155-7) 
we  have  the  following  account.  "This  answer  [of  the  king]  had 
been,  of  course,  anticipated,  and  Mr.  Home,  who  was  determined 
to  give  celebrity  to  the  mayoralty  of  his  friend,  Mr.  Beckford,  at 
the  same  time  that  he  supported  the  common  cause,  had  suggested 
the  idea  of  a  reply  to  the  sovereign ;  a  measure  hitherto  unexampled 
in  our  history."  Stephens  then  proceeds  to  say  that  the  Lord  Mayor 
"  expressed  himself  nearly  as  follows,"  &c. ;  and  presently  adds, 
6* 


130  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

Hoole,  the  son  of  the  translator  of  Ariosto,  wrote 
a  poem  entitled  The  Curate,*  which  is  by  no  means 
bad.  I  knew  him  when  he  was  a  private  tutor. 


"What  strange  meetings  sometimes  occur !  Rich 
ard  Sharp,  when  a  young  man,  was  making  a  tour 
in  Scotland  with  a  friend.  They  arrived  one  night 
at  Glencoe,  and  could  get  no  lodgings  at  the  inn  ; 

"  This,  as  Mr.  Home  lately  acknowledged  to  me,  was  his  composi 
tion." — I  now  quote  the  words  of  Mr.  Maltby  (see  notice  prefixed 
to  the  Porsoniana  in  this  volume).  "  I  was  dining  at  Guildhall  in 
1790,  and  sitting  next  to  Dr.  C.  Burney,  when  he  assured  me  that 
Beckford  did  not  utter  one  syllable  of  the  speech — that  it  was 
wholly  the  invention  of  Home  Tooke.  Being  very  intimate  with 
Tooke,  I  lost  no  time  in  questioning  him  on  the  subject.  'What 
Burney  states,'  he  said,  '  is  true.'  I  saw  Beckford  just  after  he  came 
from  St.  James's.  I  asked  him  what  he  had  said  to  the  king ;  and 
he  replied,  thafc  he  had  been  so  confused,  he  scarcely  knew  what  he 
had  said.  '  But,'  cried  I,  '  your  speech  must  be  sent  to  the  papers ; 
I'll  write  it  for  you.'  I  did  so  immediately,  and  it  was  printed 
forthwith.' " 

These  various  statements  enable  us  to  arrive  at  the  exact  truth  ; 
viz.  that  Tooke  suggested  to  Beckford  (if  he  did  not  write  them  down) 
the  heads  of  a  rejoinder  to  the  king's  reply — that  Beckford,  losing 
his  presence  of  mind,  made  little  or  no  use  of  them — and  that  the 
famous  speech  (or  rejoinder)  which  is  engraved  on  the  pedestal  of 
Beckford's  statue  in  Guildhall,  was  the  elaborate  composition  of 
Home  Tooke. — ED. 

*  Edward,  or  the  Curate ;  by  the  Rev.  Samuel  Hoole,  1787,  4to.  His 
Poems  were  collected  in  two  vols.,  1790. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  131 

9 

but  they  were  told  by  the  landlord  that  there  lived 
in  the  neighbourhood  a  "laird"  who  was  always 
ready  to  show  kindness  to  strangers,  and  who  would 
doubtless  receive  them  into  his  house.  Thither  they 
went,  and  were  treated  with  the  greatest  hospitality. 
In  the  course  of  conversation,  the  "laird"  mentioned 
]STewfoundland  as  a  place  familiar  to  him.  "  Have 
you  been  there  ?  "  asked  Sharp.  "  Yes,"  he  replied, 
"I  spent  some  time  there,  when  I  was  in  the  army ; " 
and  he  went  on  to  say  that,  while  there,  he  enjoyed 
the  society  of  the  dearest  friend  he  had  ever  had,  a 
gentleman  named  Sharp.  "Sir,  I  am  the  son  of 
that  very  gentleman."  The  "  laird  "  threw  his  arms 
round  Sharp's  neck,  and  embraced  him  with  a  flood 
of  tears. 

Sharp's  Kttle  volume  of  Letters  and  Essays  is 
hardly  equal  to  his  reputation.  He  had  given  great 
attention  to  metaphysics,  and  intended  to  publish  a 
work  on  that  subject,  the  result  of  much  thought 
and  reading.  One  day,  as  we  were  walking  together 
near  Ulswater,  I  put  some  metaphysical  question  to 
him,  when  he  stopped  me  short  at  once  by  saying, 
"There  are  only  two  men*  in  England  with  whom 

*  Meaning,  I  believe,  Mackintosh  and  Bobus  Smith. — ED 


132  .RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

« 

I  ever  talk  on  metaphysics."  This  was  not  very 
nattering  to  me ;  and  it  so  offended  my  sister,  that 
she  said  I  ought  immediately  to  have  ordered  a 
postchaise,  and  left  him  there. 


I  have  always  understood  that  the  oration  of 
Pericles  in  Smith's  Thucydides  was  translated  by 
Lord  Chatham. 


Yernon  was  the  person  who  invented  the  story 
about  the  lady  being  pulverised  in  India  by  a  coup 
de  soleil : — when  he  was  dining  there  with  a,  Hindoo, 
one  of  his  host's  wives  was  suddenly  reduced  to 
ashes ;  upon  which,  the  Hindoo  rang  the  ~bdl^  and 
said  to  the  attendant  who  answered  it,  "  Bring  fresh 
glasses,  and  sweep  up  your  mistress." 

Another  of  his  stories  was  this.  He  happened 
to  be  shooting  hyenas  near  Carthage,  when  he  stum 
bled,  and  fell  down  an  abyss  of  many  fathoms'  depth. 
He  was  surprised,  however,  to  find  himself  unhurt ; 
for  he  lighted  as  if  on  a  feather-bed.  Presently  he 
perceived  that  he  was  gently  moved  upwards ;  and, 
having  by  degrees  reached  the  mouth  of  the  abyss, 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  133 

he  again  stood  safe  on  terra  firma.  He  had  fallen 
upon  an  immense  mass  of  bats,  which,  disturbed 
from  their  slumbers,  had  risen  out  of  the  abyss  and 
brought  him  up  with  them. 


I  knew  Joseph  "Warton  well.  When  Matthias 
attacked  him  in  The  Pursuits  of  Literature  for  re 
printing  some  loose  things*  in  his  edition  of  Pope, 
Joseph  wrote  a  letter  to  me,  in  w^hich  he  called 
Matthias  "  liis  pious  critic," — rather  an  odd  expres 
sion  to  come  from  a  clergyman. — He  certainly  ought 
not  to  have  given  that  letter  of  Lord  Cobham.f- 

I  never  saw  Thomas  "Warton.  I  once  called  at 
the  house  of  Kobinson  the  bookseller  for  Dr.  Kippis, 
who  used  to  introduce  me  to  many  literary  parties, 
and  who  that  evening  was  to  take  me  to  the  Society 
of  Antiquaries.  He  said,  "  Tom  Warton  is  up 
stairs."  How  I  now  wish  that  I  had  gone  up  and 

*  The  Imitation  of  the  Second  Satire  of  the  First  Book  of  Horace,  and 
the  chapter  of  "The  Double  Mistress,"  in  the  Memoirs  of  ScriUerus: 
Matthias  also  objected  to  "  a  few  trumpery,  vulgar  copies  of  verses 
which  disgrace  the  pages." — ED. 

f  See  J.  Warton's  Life  of  Pope,  p.  li.  The  letter  had  been  pre 
viously  printed — in  the  dullest  of  all  biographies,  Ruffhead's  Life  of 
Pope,  p.  276.— ED. 


RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 


seen  him  !  His  little  poem,  The  Suicide,  is  a  favour 
ite  of  mine.  —  ]STor  did  I  ever  see  Gibbon,  or  Cow- 
per,  or  Horace  Walpole  :  and  it  is  truly  provoking 
to  reflect  that  I  might  have  seen  them  ! 


There  is  no  doubt  that  Matthias  wrote  The  Pur 
suits  of  Literature  /  and  a  dull  poem  it  is,  though 
the  notes  are  rather  piquant. 

Gilbert  Wakefield  used  to  say,  he  was  certain 
that  Rennell  and  Glynn  assisted  Matthias  in  it ;  and 
Wakefield  was  well  acquainted  with  all  the  three. 

jSteevens  once  said  to  Matthias,  "Well,  sir,  since 
you  deny  the  authorship  of  The  Pursuits  of  Liter  Or 
ture^  I  need  have  no  hesitation  in  declaring  to  you 
that  the  perso  i  who  wrote  it  is  a  liar  and  a  black 
guard." 

In  one  of  the  notes  was  a  statement  that  Beloe 
had  received  help  from  Porson  in  translating  Al- 
ciphron.  Porson  accordingly  went  to  Beloe,  and 
said,  "  As  you  know  that  I  did  not  help  you,  pray, 
write  to  Matthias  and  desire  him  to  alter  that  note." 
In  a  subsequent  edition  the  note  was  altered. 

One  day  I  asked  Matthias  if  he  wrote  The  Pur 
suits  of  Literature ;  and  he  answered,  "My  dear 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGEES.  135 

friend,  can  you  suppose  that  I  am  the  author  of  that 
poem,  when  there  is  no  mention  made  in  it  of  your 
self  ?"  Some  time  after,  I  happened  to  call  on  Lord 
Besborough,  who  told  me,  that,  as  he  was  illustrat 
ing  The  Pursuits  of  Literature  with  portraits,  he 
wanted  to  get  one  of  me.  "  Why,"  exclaimed  I, 
"  there  is  no  mention  in  it  of  me/"  He  then  turned 
to  the  note  where  I  am  spoken  of  as  the  banker  who 
"  dreams  on  Parnassus."* 


What  popularity  Cowper's  Task  enj  oyed !  John 
son,  the  publisher,  told  me  that,  in  consequence  of 
the  great  number  of  copies  which  had  been  sold,  he 
made  a  handsome  present  to  the  author. 

In  order  to  attain  general  popularity,  a  poem 
must  have  (what  it  is  creditable  to  our  countrymen 
that  they  look  for)  a  strong  religious  tendency,  and 

*  Let  me  present  a  short  passage  from  a  Letter  to  Mr.  Pitt 
on  the  occasion  of  the  Triple  Assessment.  'Things,  sir,  are  now 
changed.  Time  was,  when  bankers  were  as  stupid  as  their  guineas 
could  make  them ;  they  were  neither  orators,  nor  painters,  nor  poets. 
But  now  Mr.  Dent  has  a  speech  and  a  btich  at  your  service ;  Sii 
Robert  has  his  pencil  and  canvas;  and  Mr.  Rogers  dreams  on  Par 
nassus;  and,  if  I  am  rightly  informed,  there  is  a  great  demand 
among  his  brethren  for  the  Pleasures  of  Memory.'"  P.  360,  ed.  1808. 

—ED. 


136  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

must  treat  of  subjects  which  require  110  previous 
knowledge  in  the  readers.  Cowper's  Poems  are 
of  that  description. 

Here  are  two  fine  lines  in  Cowper's  Task  ;  * 

"  Knowledge  is  proud  that  he  has  learn'd  so  much ; 
"Wisdom  is  humble  that  he  knows  no  more." 

Sometimes  in  his  rhymed  poetry  the  verses  run  with 
all  the  ease  of  prose  :  for  instance, — 

"  The  path  of  sorrow,  and  that  path  alone, 
Leads  to  the  land  where  sorrow  is  unknown."  f 


Cumberland  was  a  most  agreeable  companion, 
and  a  very  entertaining  converser.  His  theatrical 
anecdotes  were  related  with  infinite  spirit  and  hu 
mour  ;  his  description  of  Mrs.  Siddons  coming  off  the 
stage  in  the  full  flush  of  triumph,  and  walking  up  to 
the  mirror  in  the  green-room  to  survey  herself,  was 
admirable.  He  said  that  the  three  finest  pieces  of 
acting  which  he  had  ever  witnessed,  were  Garrick's 
Lear,  Henderson's  Falstaff,  and  Cooke's  lago. 

*  Book  vi.— ED. 

f  An  Epistle  to  an  afflicted  Protestant  Lady  in  France. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  137 

When  Cumberland  was  composing  any  work,  he 
never  shut  himself  up  in  his  study :  he  always  wrote 
in  the  room  where  his  family  sat,  and  did  not  feel 
the  least  disturbed  by  the  noise  of  his  children  at 
play  beside  him.* 

Lord  Holland  and  Lord  Lansdowne  having  ex 
pressed  a  wish  to  be  introduced  to  Cumberland,  I 
invited  all  the  three  to  dine  with  me.  It  happened, 
however,  that  the  two  lords  paid  little  or  no  atten 
tion  to  Cumberland  (though  he  said  several  very 
good  things), — scarcely  speaking  to  him  the  whole 
time  :  something  had  occurred  in  the  House  which 
occupied  all  their  thoughts  ;  and  they  retired  to  a 
window,  and  discussed  it. 


Mitford,  the  historian  of  Greece,  possessed,  be 
sides  his  learning,  a  wonderful  variety  of  accomplish 
ments.  I  always  felt  the  highest  respect  for  him. 
When,  not  long  before  his  death,  I  used  to  meet  him 
in  the  street,  bent  almost  double,  and  carrying  a  long 
staff  in  his  hand,  he  reminded  me  of  a  venerable 
pilgrim  just  come  from  Jerusalem. — His  account  of 

*  Compare  Cumberland's  Memoirs,  i.  264,  ii.  204. — ED. 


138  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

the  Homeric  age, — of  the  Sicilian  cities, — and  sev 
eral  other  parts  of  his  History,  are  very  pleasing. 


Lane  made  a  large  fortune  by  the  immense  quan 
tity  of  trashy  novels  which  he  sent  forth  from  his 
Minerva-press.  I  perfectly  well  remember  the  splen 
did  carriage  in  which  he  used  to  ride,  and  his  foot 
men  with  their  cockades  and  gold-headed  canes. 

Now-a-days,  as  soon  as  a  novel  has  had  its  run, 
and  is  beginning  to  be  forgotten,  out  comes  an  edi 
tion  of  it  as  a  "  standard  novel ! " 


One  afternoon,  at  Court,  I  was  standing  beside 
two  intimate  acquaintances  of  mine,  an  old  nobleman 
and  a  middle-aged  lady  of  rank,  when  the  former 
remarked  to  the  latter  that  he  thought  a  certain 
young  lady  near  us  was  uncommonly  beautiful.  The 
middle-aged  lady  replied,  "  I  cannot  see  any  par 
ticular  beauty  in  her." — "  Ah,  madam,"  he  rejoined, 
"  to  us  old  men  youth  always  appears  beautiful !  " 
(a  speech  with  which  Wordsworth,  when  I  repeated 
it  to  him,  was  greatly  struck). — The  fact  is,  till  we 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   EOGERS.  139 

are  about  to  leave  the  world,  we  do  not  perceive 
how  much  it  contains  to  excite  our  interest  and  ad 
miration  :  the  sunsets  appear  to  me  far  lovelier  now 
than  thew  were  in  other  years  ;  and  the  bee  upon 
the  flower  is  now  an  object  of  curiosity  to  me,  which 
it  was  not  in  my  early  days. 


With  the  exception  of  some  good  lines,  such 
as,— 

"  Hell  in  his  heart,  and  Tyburn  in  his  face,"  * 

Churchill's  poetry  is,  to  my  thinking,  but  mediocre; 
and  for  such  poetry  I  have  little  toleration ;  though 
perhaps,  when  I  recollect  iny  own  writings,  I  ought 
not  to  make  the  remark. 

I  am  not  sure  that  I  do  not  prefer  Wolcot  (Pe 
ter  Pindar)  to  Churchill. — "Wolcot's  Gipsy  \  is  very 
neat. 

["  A  wandering  gipsy,  sirs,  am  I, 
From  Norwood,  where  we  oft  complain, 
With  many  a  tear  and  many  a  sigh, 
Of  blustering  winds  and  rushing  rain. 

*  Not  inserted  in  Wolcot's  Poet.  Works,  5  vols. — ED. 
f  The  Author.— Eu. 


140  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

No  costly  rooms  or  gay  attire 
Within  our  humble  shed  appear  ; 
No  beds  of  down,  or  blazing  fire, 
At  night  our  shivering  limbs  to  cheer. 

Alas,  no  friend  comes  near  our  cot ! 
The  redbreasts  only  find  the  way, 
"Who  give  their  all,  a  simple  note, 
At  peep  of  morn  and  parting  day. 

But  fortunes  here  I  come  to  tell, — 
Then  yield  me,  gentle  sir,  your  hand : — 
Within  these  lines  what  thousands  dwell, — 
And,  bless  me,  what  a  heap  of  land ! 

It  surely,  sir,  must  pleasing  be 
To  hold  such  wealth  in  every  line  : 
Try,  pray,  now  try,  if  you  can  see 
A  little  treasure  lodg'd  in  mine."] 

And  there  can  hardly  be  a  better  line  of  its  kind 
than  this, — 

"  Kill  half  a  cow,  and  turn  the  rest  to  grass."  * 


in  company  with  my  sister,  I  paid  a  visit  to 
Gilbert  "Wakefield  when  he  was  in  Dorchester  Gaol. 

*  Complimentary  Epistle  to  James  Boswell,  Esq. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  141 

His  confinement  was  made  as  pleasant  to  him  as 
possible ;  for  lie  had  nearly  an  acre  of  ground  to  walk 
about  in.  But,  still,  the  sentence  passed  upon  him 
was  infamous  :  what  rulers  we  had  in  those  days ! 

Wakefield  gave  Beloe  some  assistance  in  trans 
lating  Aulus  Gellius. 


At  a  splendid  party  given  by  Lord  Hampden  to 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  &c.,  I  saw  Lady  Hamilton  go 
through  all  those  "attitudes"  which  have  been  en 
graved  ;  and  her  performance  was  very  beautiful 
indeed.  Her  husband,  Sir  William,  was  present. 

Lord  kelson  was  a  remarkably  kind-hearted  man. 
I  have  seen  him  spin  a  teetotum  with  his  one  hand, 
a  whole  evening,  for  the  amusement  of  some  children. 
I  heard  him  once  during  dinner  utter  many  bitter 
complaints  (which  Lady  Hamilton  vainly  attempted 
to  check)  of  the  way  he  had  been  treated  at  court 
that  forenoon :  the  Queen  had  not  condescended  to 
take  the  slightest  notice  of  him.  In  truth,  Nelson 
was  hated  at  court ;  they  were  jealous  of  his  fame. 

There  was  something  very  charming  in  Lady 
Hamilton's  openness  of  manner.  She  showed  me  the 


142  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

neckcloth  which  Nelson  had  on  when  he  died  :  of 
course  I  could  not  help  looking  at  it  with  extreme 
interest;  and  she  threw  her  arms  round  my  neck  and 
kissed  me. — She  was  latterly  in  great  want ;  and 
Lord  Stowell  never  rested  till  he  procured  for  her  a 
small  pension  from  government. 


Parson  Este  *  was  wrell  acquainted  with  Mrs. 
Robinson  (the  once-celebrated  Perdita\  and  said 
that  Fox  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  persuading 
the  Prince  of  Wales  to  lend  her  some  assistance, 
when,  towards  the  close  of  life,  she  was  in  very 
straitened  circumstances.  Este  saw  her  funeral, 
which  was  attended  by  a  single  mourning  coach. f 


A  person  once  asserted  that  in  a  particular  coun- 

*  See  pp.  58,  59. 

f  Poor  Perdita  had  some  poetic  talent :  and  it  was  acknowledged 
by  Coleridge,  whose  lines  to  her,  "As  late  on  Skiddaw's  mount  I  lay 
supine,"  &c.,  are  not  to  be  found  in  the  recent  collections  of  his 
poems.  See,  at  p.  xlviii.  of  the  Tributary  Poems  prefixed  to  Mrs. 
Robinson's  Poetical  Works,  3  vols.,  "A  Stranger  Minstrel  By  S.  T. 
Coleridge,  Esq.,  uritten  a  few  weeks  before  her  death"  and  dated  " Nov, 
1800."— ED, 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    KOGEKS.  143 

try  the  bees  were  as  large  as  sheep.  He  was  asked 
"How  big,  then,  are  the  hives  ?"—"  Oh,"  he  re 
plied,  "  the  usual  size." 


I  knew  Jane  Duchess  of  Gordon  intimately,  and 
many  pleasant  hours  have  I  passed  in  her  society. 
She  used  to  say,  "I  have  been  acquainted  with 
David  Hume  and  William  Pitt,  and  therefore  I  am 
not  afraid  to  converse  with  any  body." 

The  Duchess  told  the  following  anecdote  to  Lord 
Stowell,  who  told  it  to  Lord  Dunmore,  who  told  it 
to  me.  "  The  son  of  Lord  Cornwallis  [Lord  Brome] 
fell  in  love  with  my  daughter  Louisa ;  and  she  liked 
him  much.  They  were  to  be  married ;  but  the  in 
tended  match  was  broken  off  by  Lord  C.,  whose 
only  objection  to  it  sprung  from  his  belief  .that  there 
wras  madness  in  my  husband's  family.  Upon  this  I 
contrived  to  have  a  tete-a-tete  with  Lord  C.,  and 
said  to  him,  i  I  know  your  reason  for  disapproving 
of  your  son's  marriage  with  my  daughter :  now,  I 
will  tell  you  one  thing  plainly, — there  is  not  a  drop 
of  the  Gordon  Hood  in  Louisa? s  'body.''  With  this 
statement  Lord  C.  was  quite  satisfied,  and  the  mar* 


14:4  RECOLLECTIONS    OP"   THE 

riage  took  place."  The  Duchess  prided  herself 
greatly  on  the  success  of  this  manceuure,  though  it 
had  forced  her  to  slander  her  own  character  so 
cruelly  and  so  unjustly !  In  fact,  manoeuvring  was 
her  delight. 


One  morning  I  was  about  to  mount  my  horse  to 
ride  into  London  to  the  banking-house,  when,  to 
my  astonishment,  I  read  in  the  newspapers  that  a 
summons  had  been  issued  to  bring  me  before  the 
Privy-Council.  I  immediately  proceeded  to  Down 
ing  Street,  and  asked  to  see  Mr.  Dundas.  I  was 
admitted ;  and  I  told  him  that  I  had  come  to  inquire 
the  cause  of  the  summons  which  I  had  seen  an 
nounced  in  the  newspapers.  He  said,  "  Have  you  a 
carriage  here  ? "  I  replied,  "  A  hackney-coach."  In 
to  it  we  got ;  and  there  was  I  sitting  familiarly  with 
Dundas,  whom  I  had  never  before  set  eyes  on.  We 
drove  to  the  Home-Office  ;  and  I  learned  that  I  had 
been  summoned  to  give  evidence  in  the  case  of  Wil 
liam  Stone,  accused  of  high  treason. — Long  before 
this,  I  had  met  Stone  in  the  Strand,  when  he  told 
me,  among  other  things,  that  a  person  had  arrived 
here  from  France  to  gather  the  sentiments  of  the 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  145 

people  of  England  concerning  a  French  invasion ; 
and  that  he  (Stone)  would  call  upon  me  and  read  to 
me  a  paper  on  that  subject.  I  said,  "  You  will  in 
fect  me  with  the  plague  ;"  and  we  parted.  In  the 
course  of  a  few  days  he  did  call  with  the  paper. — 
After  the  Government  had  laid  hold  of  Stone,  he 
mentioned  his  intercourse  with  me  ;  and  hence  my 
summons.  When  his  trial  took  place,  I  was  ex 
amined  by  the  Attorney-General,  and  cross-examined 
by  Erskine.  For  some  time  before  the  trial  I  could 
scarcely  get  a  wink  of  sleep :  the  thoughts  of  my 
appearance  at  it  made  me  miserable. 

• 

[Extract  from  The  Trial  of  William  Stone  for 
High  Treason,  at  the  bar  of  the  Court  of  King's 
Bench,  en  Thursday  the  Twenty-eighth  and  Friday 
the  Twenty-ninth  of  January,  1796.  Taken  in 
short-hand  ~by  Joseph  Gurney,  1796. 

Samuel  Rogers,  Esq.  (sworn.) 
Examined  by  jMLr.  Attorney- General. 
Q.  You  know  Mr.  William  Stone  ? 
A.  Yes. 

Q.  Do  you  know  Mr.  Hurford  Stone? 
A.  Have  known  him  many  years. 


146  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

Q.  Do  you  recollect  having  any  conversation — 
and  if  you  do,  be  so  good  as  state  to  my  Lord  and  the 
Jury,  what  conversation  you  had  with  Mr.  William 
Stone  relative  to  an  invasion  of  this  country  ? 

A.  He  met  me,  I  think  it  was  in  the  month  of 
March,  1794,  in  the  street ;  he  stopped  me  to  men 
tion  the  receipt  of  a  letter  from  his  brother  at  Paris 
on  the  arrival  of  a  gentleman  who  wished  particu 
larly  to  collect  the  sentiments  of  the  people  of  this 
country  with  respect  to  a  French  invasion. — Our 
conversation  wTent  very  little  further,  for  it  was  in 
the  street. 

Q.  Do  you  recollect  what  you  said  to  him,  if 
you  said  any  thing  ? 

A.  I  recollect  that  I  rather  declined  the  conver 
sation. 

Q.I  ask  you,  not  what  you  declined  or  did  not  de 
cline,  but  what  you  said  to  him,  if  you  said  any  thing. 

A.  I  was  in  a  hurry,  and  I  believe  all  I  said  was 
to  decline  the  conversation. 

Q.  State  in  what  language  you  did  decline  that 
conversation. 

A.  I  said  that  I  had  no  wish  to  take  any  part 
whatever  in  any  political  transactions  at  that  time ; 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  147 

it  was  a  time  of  general  alarm,  and  I  wished  to  shim 
even  the  shadow  of  an  imputation,  as  I  knew  that 
when  the  minds  of  men  were  agitated,  as  I  thought 
they  then  were,  the  most  innocent  intentions  were 
liable  to  misconstruction. 

Q.  Did  he  inform  you  who  the  person  was  ? 

A.  No,  he  did  not ;  I  only  learned  that  it  was  a 
gentleman  arrived  from  Paris ;  I  speak  from  recol 
lection. 

Q.  Did  he  inform  you  what  gentleman  he  was  ? 

A.  I  do  not  recollect  that  he  did. 

Q.  Did  he  ever  call  upon  you  after  you  had  de 
clined  this  conversation? 

A.  He  did  call  upon  me  a  few  days  after ;  and 
he  read  to  me  a  paper,  which  I  understood  to  be 
written  bj  somebody  else,  but  I  cannot  say  who ; 
and  which  went  to  show,  as  far  as  I  can  recollect, 
that  the  English  nation,  however  they  might  differ 
among  themselves,  would  unite  to  repel  an  invasion. 

Q.  After  you  had  declined  a  conversation  upon 
this  subject,  from  motives  of  discretion,  Mr.  Stone 
called  upon  you  and  showed  you  this  paper  ? 

A.  He  told  me  in  the  street  he  should  call 
upon  me. 


148  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

Q.  Had  yon  any  further  conversation  with  him 
at  any  time  upon  this  subject? 

A.  He  mentioned  at  that  time  that  he  thought 
he  should  do  his  duty,  if,  by  stating  what  he  be 
lieved  to  be  true,  he  could  save  the  country  from  an 
invasion. 

Q.  Did  he  ever  tell  you  where  this  gentleman 
went  to  afterwards  ? 

A.  I  never  had  any  further  conversation  with 
him  upon  the  subject. 

Q.  He  never  came  to  consult  you  about  what  this 
gentleman  was  doing  any  where  but  in  England  ? 

A.  No ;  I  believe  I  never  met  him  again. 

Samuel  Rogers^  Esq. 
Cross-examined  by  Mr.  Erskine. 

Q.  Mr.  Stone,  meeting  you  accidentally  in  the 
street,  communicated  this  to  you  ? 

A.  In  the  open  street. 

Q.  Not  with  any  secrecy  ? 

A.  By  no  means. 

Q.  And  you  might  have  told  it  me,  if  I  had 
happened  to  have  met  you  five  minutes  afterwards  ? 

A.  Yery  likely. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEES.  149 

Q.  Have  you  had.  any  acquaintance  with  Mr. 
Stone? 

A.  I  have  met  him  frequently  for  many  years. 

Q.  What  is  his  character  with  respect  to  loyalty 
to  his  king,  and  regard  to  his  country  ? 

A.  I  had  always  an  opinion  that  in  that  respect 
he  was  a  very  well-meaning  man."  pp.  144-6.] 


I  cannot  relish  Shakespeare's  Sonnets.  The  song 
in  As  you  like  it,  "  Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind," 
is  alone  worth  them  all. 

Do  not  allow  yourself  to  be  imposed  upon  by  the 
authority  of  great  names :  there  is  not  a  little  both 
in  Shakespeare  and  in  Milton  that  is  very  far  from 
good.  The  famous  passage  in  Hamlet,  though  it  has 
passed  into  a  sort  of  proverbial  expression,  is  down 
right  nonsense, — 

"  a  custom 

More  honour'd  in  the  breach  than  the  observance :  "  * 

how  can  a  custom  be  honoured  in  the  breach  of  it  ? 

*  Act  ii.  sc.  4. — "  Compare  the  following  line  of  a  play  attributed 
to  Jonson,  Fletcher,  and  Middleton  : 

'  He  keeps  his  promise  best  that  breaks  with  hell.' 

The  Widow,  act  iii.  sc.  2." 

Dyee's  Remarks  on  Mr.  Collier's  and  Mr.  Knights  editions  of 
Shakespeare,  p.  210. — ED. 


150  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

In  Milton's  description  of  the  lazar-liouse  there 
is  a  dreadful  confusion  of  metaphor  : — 

"  Sight  so  deform  what  heart  of  rock  could  long 
Dry-etfd  behold  ?  "  * 

I  once  observed  this  to  Coleridge,  who  told  Words 
worth  that  he  could  not  sleep  all  the  next  night  for 
thinking  of  it. 

Some  speeches  in  Paradise  Lost  have  as  much 
dramatic  force  as  any  thing  in  Shakespeare ;  for  in 
stance, — 

"  Know  ye  not,  then,  said  Satan  fill'd  with  scorn, 
Know  ye  not  me  ?     Ye  knew  me  once  no  mate 
For  you,  there  sitting  where  ye  durst  not  soar,"  &c."  f 

It  is  remarkable  that  no  poet  before  Shakespeare 
ever  introduced  a  person  walking  in  sleep.  I  believe 
there  is  no  allusion  to  such  a  circumstance  in  any  of 
the  Greek  or  Latin  poets. — What  a  play  that  is! 

*  Par.  Lost,  b.  xi.  494. — In  a  note  on  this  passage,  Dunster  says 
that  the  combination  of  heart  of  rock  and  dry-ey'd  is  from  Tibullus,  lib. 
i.  El  i.  63,  &c. ; 

"  Flebis ;  non  tua  sunt  duro  prsecordia  ferro 

Vincta,  nee  in  tenero  stat  tibi  corde  silex." — ED. 
f  B.  iv.  827.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  151 

was  there  ever  sucli  a  ghost  ? — "  the  table's  full ! " 
I  never  missed  going  to  see  it,  when  Kemble  and 
Mrs.  Siddons  played  Macbeth  and  Lady  Macbeth  : 
their  noble  acting,  and  Locke's  fine  music,  made  it 
a  delightful  treat. 


If  you  wish  to  have  your  works  coldly  reviewed, 
get  your  intimate  friend  to  write  an  article  on  them. 
I  know  this  by  experience. — Ward  (Lord  Dudley) 
"  cut  up  "  my  Columbus  in  The  Quarterly :  but  he 
afterwards  repented  of  it,  and  apologised  to  me.* 


I  have  seen  Howard  the  philanthropist  more 
than  once  :  he  was  a  remarkably  mild-looking  man. 

*  The  No.  of  the  Quarterly  (see  vol.  ix.  107)  which  contained  the 
critique  in  question  had  just  appeared,  when  Mr.  Rogers,  who  had  not 
yet  seen  it,  called  on  Lord  Grosvenor,  and  found  Gifford  sitting  with 
him.  Between  Mr.  Rogers  and  Gifford  there  was  little  cordiality ; 
hut  on  that  occasion  they  chatted  together  in  a  very  friendly  manner. 
After  Mr.  Rogers  had  left  the  room,  Gifford  said  to  Lord  Grosvenor, 
with  a  smile,  "Do  you  think  he  has  seen  the  last  Quarterly?" 

Mr.  Rogers  took  his  revenge  for  that  critique,  by  frequently  re 
peating  the  following  epigram,  which  has  heen  erroneously  attributed 


152  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

His  book  on  prisons  is  excellently  written.     People 
are  not  aware  that  Dr.  Price  wrote  a  portion  of  it. 


Sir  Henry  Englefield  had  a  fancy  (which  some 
greater  men  have  had)  that  there  was  about  his  per 
son  a  natural  odour  of  roses  and  violets.  Lady 
Grenville,  hearing  of  this,  and  loving  a  joke,  ex 
claimed,  one  day  when  Sir  Henry  was  present, 

to  Byron,  but  which,  as  Mr.  Rogers  told  me,  he  himself  iwote,  'with  some 
little  assistance  from  Richard  Sharp : 

"  Ward  has  no  heart,  they  say ;  hut  I  deny  it ; — 
He  has  a  heart,  and  gets  his  speeches  by  it." 

One  day,  while  Mr.  Rogers  was  on  bad  terms  with  Ward,  Lady 

said  to  him,   "  Have  you  seen  Ward  lately  ?  "     "  What  Ward  ?  " 

"  Why,  our  Ward,  of  course."     "  Our  Ward  !  you  may  keep  him  all 
to  yourself." 

Columbus  was  first  printed  in  a  thin  quarto,  for  private  circulation, 
1810.  When  Ward  reviewed  it  in  1813,  as  forming  a  portion  of  Mr. 
Rogers's  collected  poems,  it  had  been  greatly  enlarged. 

Another  article  in  The  Quarterly  gave  considerable  annoyance  to 
Mr.  Rogers, — the  critique  by  George  Ellis,  on  Byron's  Corsair  and 
Lara  (vol.  xi.  428),  in  which  Mr.  Rogers's  Jacqueline  (originally  ap 
pended  to  Lara)  is  only  mentioned  as  "  the  highly  refined,  but  some 
what  insipid,  pastoral  tale  of  Jacqueline." — When  Mr.  Rogers  was  at 
Brighton,  in  1851,  Lady  Byron  told  him  that  her  husband,  on  reading 
Ellis's  critique,  had  said,  "  The  man's  a  fool.  Jacqueline  is  as  superior 
to  Lara,  as  Rogers  is  to  me."  Who  will  believe  that  Byron  said  this 
sincerely?  Yet  Jacqueline  is  undoubtedly  a  beautiful  little  poein. 
—En. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   EOGEES.  153 

"  Bless  me,  what  a  smell  of  violets ! " — "  Yes,"  said 
lie  with  great  simplicity ;  "  it  comes  from  me." 


We  have  in  England  the  finest  series  of  pic 
tures  and  the  finest  of  sculptures  in  the  world, — 
I  mean,  the  Cartoons  of  Raphael  and  the  Elgin 
Marbles. 

Our  National  Gallery  is  superior  to  any  private 
collection  of  pictures  in  Italy, — superior,  for  in 
stance,  to  the  Doria  and  Borghese  collections,  which 
contain  several  very  indifferent  things. 

Perhaps  the  choicest  private  collection  in  this 
country  is  that  at  Panshanger  (Earl  Cowper's) :  it 
is  small  but  admirable ;  what  Raphaels,  what  An 
drea  del  Sartos,  what  Claudes  ! 


In  former  days  Cuyp's  pictures  were  compara 
tively  little  valued :  he  was  the  first  artist  who 
painted  light,  and  therefore  he  was  not  understood. 
Sir  William  Beechy  was  at  a  picture-sale  with  Wil 
son,  when  one  of  Cuyp's  pieces  was  knocked  down 
for  a  trifling  sum.  "  Well,"  said  Wilson,  "  the  day 


154  EECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

will  come  when  both  Cuyp's  works  and  my  own 
will  bring  the  prices  which  they  ought  to  bring." 


Look  at  this  engraving  by  Marc  Antonio  after 
Raphael, — Michael  treading  upon  Satan,  and  note 
its  superiority  to  Guide's  picture  on  the  same  sub 
ject.  In  the  latter,  the  countenance  of  Michael  ex 
presses  triumph  alone ;  in  the  former,  it  expresses 
triumph  mingled  with  pity  for  a  fallen  brother- 
angel. 

This  Last  Supper  by  Raphael  [Marc  Antonio's 
engraving]  is,  I  think,  in  all  respects  superior  to 
that  by  Lionardo.  The  apostle  on  the  right  hand 
of  Christ  strikingly  displays  his  indignation  against 
the  betrayer  of  his  Lord  by  grasping  the  table-knife. 

Never  in  any  picture  did  I  see  such  a  figure  as 
this, — I  mean,  a  figure  so  completely  floating  on  the 
air  [the  Angel  holding  the  wreath  in  Marc  Antonio's 
engraving,  after  Kaphael,  of  the  martyrdom  of  St. 
Felicita]. 


Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  used  to  say,  that  among 
painters  there  were  three  pre-eminent  for  invention. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  155 

— Giorgione,  Rembrandt,  and  Rubens  ;  and  perhaps 
he  was  right. 


Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  has  painted  several  very- 
pleasing  pictures  of  children ;  but  generally  his 
men  are  effeminate,  and  his  women  meretricious.— 
Of  his  early  portraits  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  said, 
"  This  young  man  has  a  great  deal  of  talent ;  but 
there  is  an  affectation  in  his  style  which  he  will 
never  entirely  shake  off." 


We  have  now  in  England  a  greater  number  of 
tolerably  good  painters  than  ever  existed  here  to 
gether  at  any  former  period :  but,  alas,  we  have  no 
Hogarth,  and  no  Reynolds  ! 

I  must  not,  however,  forget  that  we  have  Turner, 
— a  man  of  first-rate  genius  in  his  line.  There  is  in 
some  of  his  pictures  a  grandeur  which  neither 
Claude  nor  Poussin  could  give  to  theirs. 

Turner  thinks  that  Rubens'  landscapes  are  defi 
cient  in  nature.  I  differ  from  him.  Indeed,  there* 
is  a  proof  that  he  is  mistaken ;  look  at  that  forest- 

*  i.  e.,  on  the  wall  of  Mr.  Rogers's  dining-room. — ED. 


156  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

scene  by  Rubens  ;   the  foreground  of  it  is  truth 
itself. 

The  Art  Union  is  a  perfect  curse :  it  buys  and 
engraves  very  inferior  pictures,  and  consequently 
encourages  mediocrity  of  talent*;  it  Snakes  young 
men,  who  have  no  genius,  abandon  the  desk  and 
counter,  and  set  up  for  painters. 


The  public  gave  little  encouragement  to  Flax- 
man  and  Banks,  but  showered  its  patronage  on  two 
much  inferior  sculptors,  Bacon  and  Chantrey. 

As  to  Flaxman,  the  greatest  sculptor  of  his  day, 
— the  neglect  which  Tie  experienced  is  something  in 
conceivable.  Canova,  who  was  well  acquainted  with 
his  exquisite  illustrations  of  Dante,  &c.,  could  hardly 
believe  that  a  man  of  such  genius  was  not  an  object 
of  admiration  among  his  countrymen  ;  and,  in  allu 
sion  to  their  insensibility  to  Flaxman's  merits  and  to 
their  patronage  of  inferior  artists,  he  said  to  some 
of  the  English  at  Rome,  "  You  see  with  your  ears ! " 

Chantrey  began  his  career  by  being  a  carver  in 
wood.  The  ornaments  on  that  mahogany  sideboard, 
and  on  that  stand  [in  Mr.  Rogers's  dining-room], 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  157 

were  carved  by  him.  [Subsequently,  when  a  gen 
tleman  informed  Mr.  Rogers  that  the  truth  of  this 
last  statement  had  been  questioned,  he  entered  into 
the  following  particulars. — Chantrey  said  to  me  one 
day,  "  Do  you  recollect  that,  about  twenty-five  years 
ago,  a  journeyman  came  to  your  house,  from  the 
wood-carver  employed  by  you  and  Mr.  Hope,  to  talk 
about  these  ornaments,  and  that  you  gave  him  a 
drawing  to  execute  them  by  ?  "  I  replied  that  I  re 
collected  it  perfectly.  "  Well,"  continued  Chantrey, 
"  1  was  that  journeyman."]  When  he  was  at  Rome 
in  the  height  of  his  celebrity,  he  injured  himself  not 
a  little  by  talking  with  contempt  *  of  the  finest  sta 
tues  of  antiquity. — Jackson  (the  painter)  told  me 
that  he  and  Chantrey  went  into  the  studio  of  Dan- 
necker  the  sculptor,  who  happened  to  be  from  home. 
There  was  an  unfinished  bust  in  the  room;  and 
Chantrey,  taking  up  a  chisel,  proceeded  to  work 
upon  it.  One  of  the  assistants  immediately  rushed 
forwards,  in  great  alarm,  to  stop  him ;  but  no  sooner 

*  Mr.  Rogers,  I  apprehend,  was  mistaken  on  this  point.  From 
Jones's  Life  of  Chantrey,  p.  26,  it  appears  that  Chantrey  did  not  admire 
those  statues  so  much  as  they  are  generally  admired,  and  therefore 
was  unwilling  to  give  his  opinion  on  them ;  but  that  he  never  spoke  of 
them  "  with  contempt." — ED. 


158  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

had  Chantrey  given  a  blow  on  the  chisel,  than  the 
man  exclaimed,  with  a  knowing  look,  "  Ha !  ha !  " — 
as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  see  that  you  perfectly  under 
stand  what  you  are  about." — Chantrey  practised 
portrait-painting  both  at  Sheffield  and  after  he  came 
to  London.  It  was  in  allusion  to  him  that  Lawrence 
said,  "A  broken-down  painter  will  make  a  very 
good  sculptor." 


Ottley's  knowledge  of  painting  was  astonishing. 
Showing  him  a  picture  which  I  had  just  received 
from  Italy,  I  said,  "  Whose  work  do  you  suppose 
it  to  be  ?  "  After  looking  at  it  attentively,  he  re 
plied,  "It  is  the  work  of  Lorenzo  di  Credi "  (by 
whom  I  already  knew  that  it  was  painted). — "  How," 
I  asked,  "  could  you  discover  it  to  be  from  Lorenzo's 
pencil  ?  have  you  ever  before  now  seen  any  of  his 
pieces  ?  "  "  Never,"  he  answered ;  "  but  I  am  fa 
miliar  with  the  description  of  his  style  as  given  by 
Yasari  and  others." 


I  regret  that  so  little  of  Curran's  brilliant  talk 
has  been  preserved.  How  much  of  it  Tom  Moore 
could  record,  if  he  would  only  take  the  trouble  ! 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  159 

I  once  dined  with  Cumin  in  the  public  room  of 
the  chief  inn  at  Greenwich,  when  he  talked  a  great 
deal,  and,  as  usual,  with  considerable  exaggeration. 
Speaking  of  something  which  he  would  not  do  on  any 
inducement,  he  exclaimed  vehemently, "  I  had  rather 
be  hanged  upon  twenty  gibbets." — "  Don't  you 
think,  sir,  that  one  w^ould  be  enough  for  you  ?  "  said 
a  girl,  a  stranger,  who  was  sitting  at  the  table  next 
to  us.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  Cumin's  face. 
He  was  absolutely  confounded, — struck  dumb. 


Very  few  persons  know  that  the  poem  called 
Ulm  and  Trafalgar  *  was  written  by  Canning.  He 
composed  it  (as  George  Ellis  told  me)  in  about  two 
days,  while  he  walked  up  and  down  the  room.  In 
deed,  very  few  persons  know  that  such  a  poem 
exists. 

After  Legge  was  appointed  Bishop  of  Oxford,  he 
had  the  folly  to  ask  two  wits,  Canning  and  Frere, 
to  be  present  at  his  first  sermon.  "Well,"  said  he  to 
Canning,  "  how  did  you  like  it  ?  "  "  Why,  I  thought 
it  rather — short." — "  Oh,  yes,  I  am  aware  that  it 

*  A  short  poem  printed  for  Ridge  way,  1806,  4to. — ED. 


160  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

was  short ;    but  I  was  afraid  of  being   tedious." 
"  You  were  tedious." 

A  lady  having  put  to  Canning  the  silly  question, 
"  Why  have  they  made  the  space  in  the  iron  gate 
at  Spring  Gardens  *  so  narrow  ?  "  he  replied,  "  Oh, 
ma'am,  because  such  very  fat  people  used  to  go 
through  "  (a  reply  concerning  which  Tom  Moore 
said,  that  "  the  person  who  does  not  relish  it  can 
have  no  perception  of  real  wit"). 

I  once  mentioned  to  Canning  the  anecdote, f 
that,  while  Gray  was  at  Peter  House,  Cambridge, 
some  young  men  of  the  college  having  learned  that 
he  had  a  fire-escape  in  his  rooms,  alarmed  him  in  the 
middle  of  the  night  by  a  cry  of  "fire," — and  that 
presently  Gray  descended  from  the  window  by  a 
ladder  of  ropes,  and  tumbled  into  a  tub  of  water, 

*  At  the  end  of  Spring  Garden  Passage,  which  opens  into  St. 
James's  Park. — ED. 

f  Whence  this  very  suspicious  version  of  the  anecdote  was  derived 
I  cannot  learn.  In  a  MS.  note  of  Cole  it  is  given  as  follows :  "  One  of 
their  tricks  was,  knowing  that  Mr.  Gray  had  [having  ?]  a  dread  of 
fire,  had  rope-ladders  in  his  chamber  ;  they  alarmed  him  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  night  with  the  cry  of  fire,  in  hope  of  seeing  him  make  use  of 
them  from  his  window,  in  the  middle  story  of  the  new  building." 
Mitford's  Gray,  i.  cviii.  It  was  in  consequence  of  these  "  tricks  "  that 
aray  removed  from  Peter  House  to  Pembroke  Hall. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  161 

which  the  rogues  had  placed  there  ; — upon  which, 
Canning  added,  that  "  they  had  made  a  mistake 
in  calling  out  c  fire,'  when  they  meant  to  cry 
<  water.' " 

Canning  said  that  a  man  who  could  talk  of  liking 
dry  champagne  would  not  scruple  to  say  any  thing. 


The  Duke  of  York  told  me  that  Dr.  Cyril  Jack 
son  most  conscientiously  did  his  duty  as  tutor  to  him 
and  his  brother,  the  Prince  of  Wales.  "  Jackson," 
said  the  Duke,  "  used  to  have  a  silver  pencil-case  in 
his  hand  while  we  were  at  our  lessons ;  and  he  has 
frequently  given  us  such  knocks  with  it  upon  our 
foreheads,  that  the  blood  followed  them." 

I  have  often  heard  the  Duke  relate  how  he  and 
his  brother  George,  when  young  men,  were  robbed 
by  footpads  on  Hay  Hill.*  They  had  dined  that 
day  at  Devonshire  House,  had  then  gone  home  to  lay 
aside  their  court-dresses,  and  afterwards  proceeded 
to  a  house  of  a  certain  description  in  the  neighbour 
hood  of  Berkeley  Square.  They  were  returning  from 
it  in  a  hackney-coach,  late  at  night,  when  some  foot- 

*  Hay  Hill,  Berkeley  Street,  leading  to  Dover  Street. — ED. 


162  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

pads  stopped  them  on  Hay  Hill,  and  carried  off 
their  purses,  watches,  &c. 

In  his  earlier  days  the  Duke  of  York  was  most 
exact  in  paying  all  his  debts  of  honour.  One  night 
at  Brookes's,  while  he  was  playing  cards,  lie  said  to 
Lord  Thanet,  who  was  about  to  go  home  to  bed, 
"  Lord  Thanet,  is  our  betting  still  to  continue  ? " 
"  Yes,  sir,  certainly,"  was  the  reply :  and  next  morn 
ing  Lord  Thanet  found  1500£.  left  for  him  at  Brookes's 
by  the  Duke.  But  gradually  he  became  less  par 
ticular  in  such  matters ;  and  at  last  he  would  quiet 
ly  pocket  the  winnings  of  the  night  from  Lord 
Robert  Spencer,  though  he  owed  Lord  Robert  about 
five  thousand  pounds. 

I  have  several  times  stayed  at  Oatlands  with  the 
Duke  and  Duchess  of  York — both  of  them  most 
amiable  and  agreeable  persons.  We  were  generally 
a  company  of  about  fifteen  ;  and  our  being  invited 
to  remain  there  "another  day"  sometimes  depended 
on  the  ability  of  our  royal  host  and  hostess  to  raise 
sufficient  money  for  our  entertainment.  We  used 
to  have  all  sorts  of  ridiculous  "  fun  "  as  we  roamed 
about  the  grounds.  The  Duchess  kept  (besides  a 
number  of  dogs,  for  which  there  was  a  regular  burial- 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  163 

place)  a  collection  of  monkeys,  each  of  which  had 
its  own  pole  with  a  house  at  top.  One  of  the  visit 
ors  (whose  name  I  forget)  would  single  out  a  par 
ticular  monkey,  and  play  to  it  on  the  fiddle  wTith 
such  fury  and  perseverance,  that  the  poor  animal, 
half  distracted,  would  at  last  take  refuge  in  the  arms 
of  Lord  Alvanley. — Monk  Lewris  was  a  great  fa 
vourite  at  Oatlands.  One  day  after  dinner,  as  the 
Duchess  was  leaving  the  room,  she  whispered  some 
thing  into  Lewis's  ear.  He  was  much  affected,  his 
eyes  filling  with  tears.  We  asked  what  was  the 
matter.  "  Oh,"  replied  Lewis,  "  the  Duchess  spoke 
so  very  kindly  to  me!" — -"My  dear  fellow,"  said 
Colonel  Armstrong,*  "  pray  don't  cry ;  I  daresay 
she  didn't  mean  it." 

I  was  in  the  pit  of  the  Opera  with  Crabbe  the 
poet  when  the  Duchess  of  York  beckoned  to  me,  and 
I  went  into  her  box.  There  was  no  one  with  her 
except  a  lady,  whom  I  did  not  know ;  and  supposing 
that  she  was  only  one  of  the  Duchess's  attendants, 
I  talked  very  unguardedly  about  the  Duke  of  Kent. 
Now,  the  lady  was  the  Duchess  of  Gloucester,  who 

*  Query  about  this  name  ?     Sometimes,  while  telling  the   story, 
Mr.  Rogers  would  say,  "  I  think  it  was  Colonel  Armstrong." — ED. 


164:  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

took  great  offence  at  what  I  said,  and  has  never  for 
given  me  for  it.  The  Duchess  of  York  told  me 
afterwards  that  she  sat  in  perfect  misery,  expecting 
that,  when  I  had  done  with  the  Duke  of  Kent,  I 
should  fall  upon  the  Duke  of  Gloucester. 


In  Monk  Lewis's  writings  there  is  a  deal  of 
bad  taste  ;  but  still  he  was  a  man  of  genius.  I'll 
tell  you  two  stories  which  he  was  very  fond  of 
repeating  (and  which  Windham  used  to  like).  The 
first  is  : 

The  Skeleton  in  the  Church-porch. 

Some  travellers  were  supping  at  an  inn  in  Ger 
many,  and  sent  for  the  landlord  to  give  him  a  glass 
of  wine.  In  the  course  of  conversation  the  landlord 
remarked  that  a  certain  person  whom  they  happened 
to  speak  of,  was  as  obstinate  as  the  Skeleton  in  the 
Church-porch.  "  What  is  that  ? "  they  inquired. 
The  landlord  said  that  he  alluded  to  a  skeleton 
which  it  was  impossible  to  keep  under  ground ;  that 
he  had  twice  or  thrice  assisted  in  laying  it  in  the 
charnel,  but  that  always,  the  day  after  it  had  been 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   EOGERS.  165 

buried,  it  was  found  lying  in  the  church-porch.  The 
travellers  were  greatly  struck  by  this  account ;  and 
they  expressed  an  eager  desire  to  see  the  refractory 
skeleton.  At  last,  a  young  serving-woman  coming 
into  the  room,  they  asked  her  if  she,  for  a  reward, 
would  go  to  the  church-porch  and  bring  the  skeleton 
to  them.  She  at  first  refused  to  do  so  ;  but  eventu 
ally  the  travellers  offered  a  sum  of  money  which 
she  could  not  resist.  Be  it  particularly  observed 
that  the  young  woman  was  then  big  with  child. 
Well,  off  she  set  to  the  church ;  and  having  found 
the  skeleton  in  its  usual  place,  she  brought  it  to  the 
inn  on  her  back,  and  laid  it  upon  the  table  before 
the  travellers.  They  had  no  sooner  looked  at  it 
than  they  wished  it  gone  ;  and  they  prevailed  on  the 
young  woman,  for  another  sum  of  money,  to  carry  it 
again  to  the  church-porch.  When  she  arrived  there, 
she  set  it  down;  and  turning  away,  she  was  pro 
ceeding  quickly  along  the  path  which  led  from  the 
church,  and  which  was  seen  stretching  out  before 
her  in  the  clear  moonlight,  when  suddenly  she  felt 
the  skeleton  leap  upon  her  back.  She  tried  to  shake 
it  off ;  but  in  vain.  She  then  fell  on  her  knees,  and 
said  her  prayers.  The  skeleton  relaxed  its  hold ; 


166  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

and  she  again  rushed  down  the  path,  when,  as  be 
fore,  the  skeleton  leapt  upon  her  back.  "I  will 
never  quit  you,"  it  said,  "  till  you  descend  into  the 
charnel,  and  obtain  forgiveness  for  the  skeleton  that 
lies  in  the  church-porch."  She  paused  a  moment ; 
then  summoning  up  her  courage,  she  replied  that  she 
would  do  so.  The  skeleton  dropped  off.  Down  she 
went  into  the  charnel ;  and,  after  groping  about  for 
some  time,  she  perceived  the  pale  figure  of  a  lady, 
sitting  by  a  lamp  and  reading.  She  advanced  to 
wards  the  figure,  and,  kneeling,  said,  "I  ask  forgive 
ness  for  the  skeleton  that  lies  in  the  church-porch." 
The  lady  read  on  without  looking  at  her.  Again 
she  repeated  her  supplication,  but  still  the  lady  read 
on,  regardless  of  it.  The  young  woman  then  as 
cended  from  the  charnel,  and  was  running  down  the 
path  when  the  skeleton  once  more  arrested  her  pro 
gress.  " I  will  never  quit  you,"  it  said,  "till  you 
obtain  forgiveness  for  the  skeleton  that  lies  in  the 
church-porch :  go  again  into  the  charnel,  and  ask 
it."  Again  the  young  woman  descended,  and,  ad 
vancing  to  the  lady,  sunk  upon  her  knees,  and  cried, 
"  I  come  a  second  time  to  ask  forgiveness  for  the 
skeleton  that  lies  in  the  church-porch.  Oh,  grant 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  167 

that  forgiveness!  the  skeleton  implores  it !  I  implore 
it !  the  l)dbe  that  Ibear  in  my  womb  implores  it  also  !  " 
The  lady  turned  her  head  towards  the  speaker,  gave 
a  faint  smile,  and  disappeared.  On  coming  up  from 
the  charnel,  the  young  woman  found  the  skeleton 
standing  erect  in  the  porch.  "  I  am  now  here,"  it 
said,  "  not  to  trouble  you,  but  to  thank  you :  you 
have  at  length  procured  me  rest  in  the  grave.  I  was 
betrothed  to  the  lady  whom  you  saw  in  the  charnel ; 
and  I  basely  deserted  her  for  another.  I  stood  at 
the  altar,  about  to  be  married  to  my  second  love, 
when  suddenly  the  lady  rushed  into  the  church,  and 
having  stabbed  herself  with  a  dagger,  said  to  me,  as 
she  was  expiring,  "  You  shall  never  have  rest  in  the 
grave, — no,  never,  till  the  lobe  unborn  shall  ask  for 
giveness  for  you"  The  skeleton  rewarded  the  good 
offices  of  the  young  woman  by  discovering  to  her 
the  place  where  a  heap  of  treasure  was  concealed. 
The  second  story  is  : 

Lord  Howtffs  Rat. 

Tom  Sheridan  was  shooting  on  the  moors  in  Ire 
land,  and  lost  his  dog.  A  day  or  two  after,  it  made 
its  appearance,  following  an  Irish  labourer.  It  was 


168  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   TIIE 

restored  to  Sheridan,  who  remarked  to  the  labourer 
that  "  the  dog  seemed  very  familiar  with  him."  The 
answer  was,  "Yes,  it  follows  me,  as  the  rat  did  Lord 
Howth."  An  inquiry  about  this  rat  drew  forth  what 
is  now  to  be  told. — Lord  Howth,  having  dissipated 
his  property,  retired  in  very  low  spirits  to  a  lonely 
chateau  on  the  sea-coast.  One  stormy  night  a  vessel 
was  seen  to  go  down  ;  and  next  morning  a  raft  was 
beheld  floating  towards  the  shore.  As  it  approached, 
the  bystanders  were  surprised  to  find  that  it  was 
guided  by  a  lady,  who  presently  stepped  upon  the 
beach.  She  was  exquisitely  beautiful ;  but  they 
were  unable  to  discover  who  or  what  she  was,  for 
she  spoke  in  an  unknown  tongue.  Lord  Howth  was 
struck  with  great  pity  for  this  fair  stranger,  and 
conducted  her  to  his  chateau.  There  she  remained 
a  considerable  time,  when  he  became  violently  ena 
moured  of  her,  and  at  last  asked  her  to  become  his 
wife.  She  (having  now  learned  the  English  lan 
guage)  thanked  him  for  the  honour  he  had  intended 
her ;  but  declared  in  the  most  positive  terms  that 
she  could  never  be  his.  She  then  earnestly  advised 
him  to  marry  a  certain  lady  of  a  neighbouring 
county.  He  followed  her  advice ;  paid  his  addresses 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  169 

to  the  lady,  and  was  accepted.  Before  the  marriage, 
the  beautiful  stranger  took  a  ribbon  from  her  hair, 
and  binding  it  round  the  wrist  of  Lord  Howth,  said, 
"  Your  happiness  depends  on  your  never  parting 
with  this  ribbon."  He  assured  her  that  it  should 
remain  constantly  on  his  wrist.  She  then  disap 
peared,  and  was  never  seen  again.  The  marriage 
took  place.  The  ribbon  was  a  matter  of  much 
wonder  and  curiosity  to  the  bride  ;  and  one  night, 
while  Lord  Howth  was  asleep,  she  removed  it  from 
his  wrist,  and  carried  it  to  the  fire,  that  she  might 
read  the  characters  inscribed  upon  it.  Accidentally 
she  let  the  flame  reach  it,  and  it  was  consumed. 
Some  time  after,  Lord  Howth  was  giving  a  grand 
banquet  in  his  hall,  when  the  company  were  sud 
denly  disturbed  by  the  barking  of  dogs.  This,  the 
servants  said,  was  occasioned  by  a  rat  which  the 
dogs  were  pursuing.  Presently  the  rat,  followed  by 
the  dogs,  entered  the  hall.  It  mounted  on  the  table, 
and  running  up  to  Lord  Howth,  stared  at  him  ear 
nestly  with  its  bright  black  eyes.  He  saved  its  life ; 
and  from  that  moment  it  never  quitted  him  :  wher 
ever  he  was,  alone  or  with  his  friends,  there  was  the 
rat.  At  last  the  society  of  the  rat  became  very  dis- 

8 


170  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

agreeable  to  Lord  Howtli ;  and  his  brother  urged 
him  to  leave  Ireland  for  a  time,  that  he  might  get 
rid  of  it.  He  did  so,  and  proceeded  to  Marseilles, 
accompanied  by  his  brother.  They  had  just  arrived 
at  that  place,  and  were  sitting  in  the  room  of  an 
hotel,  when  the  door  opened,  and  in  came  the  rat. 
It  was  dripping  wet,  and  went  straight  to  the  fire  to 
dry  itself.  Lord  Howth's  brother,  greatly  enraged 
at  the  intrusion,  seized  the  poker,  and  dashed  out 
its  brains.  "  You  have  murdered  me,"  cried  Lord 
Howth,  and  instantly  expired. 


Howley,  the  present  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
edited  and  wrote  the  preface  to  Russell's  Sonnets  and 
Poems*  I  like  Russell's  sonnet  about  Philoctetes, 
which  you  say  Wordsworth  admires  so  much.f 

[;:  Supposed  to  be  written  at  Lemnos. 

On  this  lone  isle,  whose  rugged  rocks  affright 
The  cautious  pilot,  ten  revolving  years 
Great  Poaas'  son,  unwonted  erst  to  tears, 

Wept  o'er  his  wound  :  alike  each  rolling  light 

*  First  printed  at  Oxford,  1789,  4to. — ED. 

f  See  letter  to  Rev.  A.  Dyce  in  Wordsworth's  Memoirs,  ii.  280. — 
ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGEKS.  171 

Of  heaven  lie  watch'd,  and  blam'd  its  lingering  flight; 

By  day  the  sea-mew,  screaming  round  his  cave, 

Drove  slumber  from  his  eyes,  the  chiding  wave 
And  savage  bowlings  chas'd  his  dreams  by  night. 
Hope  still  was  his  :  in  each  low  breeze  that  sigh'd 

Through  his  rude  grot  he  heard  a  coming  oar, 
In  each  white  cloud  a  coming  sail  he  spied ; 

Nor  seldom  listen'd  to  the  fancied  roar 
Of  (Eta's  torrents,  or  the  hoarser  tide 

That  parts  fam'd  Trachis  from  th'  Euboic  shore."] 


I  like,  too,  that  one  which  begins,  "  Could,  then, 
the  babes." 

["  Could,  then,  the  babes  from  yon  unshelter'd  cot 

Implore  thy  passing  charity  in  vain  ? 
Too  thoughtless  youth !  what  though  thy  happier  lot 

Insult  their  life  of  poverty  and  pain ; 
What  though  their  Maker  doom'd  them  thus  forlorn 

To  brook  the  mockery  of  the  taunting  throng, 
Beneath  th'  oppressor's  iron  scourge  to  mourn, 

To  mourn,  but  not  to  murmur  at  his  wrong  ? 
Yet  when  their  last  late  evening  shall  decline, 

Their  evening  cheerful,  though  their  day  distrest, 
A  hope  perhaps  more  heavenly  bright  than  thine, 

A  grace  by  thee  unsought  and  unpossest, 


172  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

A  faith  more  fix'd,  a  rapture  more  divine, 
Shall  gild  their  passage  to  eternal  rest."] 


Grattan's  aunt  was  intimate  with  Swift's  Stella, 
(Mrs.  Johnson),  who  would  sometimes  sleep  with  her 
in  the  same  bed,  and  pass  the  whole  night  in  tears. 
Stella  was  not  handsome. 

At  one  of  Lady  Crewe's  dinner-parties,  Grattan, 
after  talking  very  delightfully  for  some  time,  all  at 
once  seemed  disconcerted,  and  sunk  into  silence.  I 
asked  his  daughter,  who  was  sitting  next  to  me,  the 
reason  of  this.  "  Oh,"  she  replied,  "  he  has  just 
found  out  that  he  has  come  here  in  his  powdering- 
coat." 

Grattan  said  that  Malone  went  about,  looking, 
through  strongly-magnifying  spectacles,  for  pieces 
of  straw  and  bits  of  broken  glass. 

He  used  to  talk  with  admiration  of  the  French 
translation  of  Demosthenes  by  Auger :  he  thought 
it  the  best  of  all  translations. 

He  declared  that  the  two  greatest  men  of  modern 
times  were  William  the  Third  and  Washington. 

"  Three  persons,"  said  Grattan,  "  are  considered 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  173 

as  having  the  best  claim  to  the  authorship  of  Junius's 
Letters, — Gibbon,  Hamilton,  and  Burke.  Gibbon 
is  out  of  the  question.  I  do  not  believe  that  they 
were  Hamilton's  ;  because  a  man,  who  was  willing 
to  be  known  as  the  author  of  a  bad  piece,  would 
hardly  have  failed  to  acknowledge  that  he  had 
written  an  excellent  book.  I  incline  to  think  that 
Burke  was  Junius. 

"  Burke,"  observed  Grattan,  "  became  at  last 
such  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  kingly  power,  that 
lie  could  not  have  slept  comfortably  on  his  pillow, 
if  he  had  not  thought  that  the  king  had  a  right  to 
carry  it  off  from  under  his  head." 

"  Do  you  ever  say  your  prayers  ? "  asked  Plun- 
kett  of  Grattan.  "  No,  never."—"  What,  never  ? 
neither  night  nor  morning  ? "  "  Never  :  but  I  have 
aspirations  all  day  and  all  night  long." 

"  "What  you  have  just  mentioned,"  said  one  of 
Grattan's  friends  to  him,  "  is  a  profound  secret : 
where  could  you  have  heard  it  ? "  Grattan  replied, 
"  Where  secrets  are  kept, — in  the  street." 

You  remember  the  passage  in  my Human  Life  f — 

ec  A  walk  in  Spring — Grattan,  like  those  with  thee 
By  the  heath-side  (who  had  not  envied  me  ?), 


174:  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

When  the  sweet  limes,  so  full  of  bees  in  June, 
Led  us  to  meet  beneath  their  boughs  at  noon  ; 
And  thou  didst  say  which  of  the  great  and  wise, 
Could  they  but  hear  and  at  thy  bidding  rise, 
Thou  wouldst  call  up  and  question." 

I  allude  to  some  lime-trees  near  Tunbridge  Wells. 
Grattan  would  say  to  me,  "  Come,  Rogers,  let's  take 
a  walk  among  the  lime-trees,  and  hear  those  great 
senators,  the  bees ; "  and,  while  we  were  listening 
to  their  buzzing  and  humming,  he  would  exclaim, 
"  JSTow,  they  are  holding  a  committee,"  &c.,  &c.  He 
would  say,  too,  "  Were  I  a  necromancer,  I  should 
like  to  call  up  Scipio  Africanus  :  he  was  not  so  skil 
ful  a  captain  as  Hannibal ;  but  he  was  a  greater  and 
more  virtuous  man.  And  I  should  like  to  talk  to 
Julius  Caesar  on  several  points  of  his  history, — on 
one  particularly  (though  I  would  not  press  the  sub 
ject,  if  disagreeable  to  him)  ; — I  should  wish  to  know 
what  part  he  took  during  Catiline's  conspiracy." — 
"  Should  you  like  to  call  up  Cleopatra  ? "  I  asked. 
"  No,"  replied  Grattan,  "  not  Cleopatra  :  she  would 
tell  me  nothing  but  lies  ;  and  her  beauty  would  make 
me  sad."  * — Grattan  was  so  fond  of  walking  with  me, 

*  The  very  reverse  of  the  effect  which  the  beauty  of  the  little 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  175 

that  Mrs.  Grattan  once  said  to  him  rather  angrily, 
"  You'll  be  taken  for  Mr.  Rogers's  shadow." 

"  How  I  should  like,"  said  Grattan  one  day  to 
me,  "  to  spend  my  whole  life  in  a  small  neat  cottage  ! 
I  could  be  content  with  very  little  ;  I  should  need 
only  cold  meat,  and  bread,  and  beer, — and  plenty 
of  claret" 

I  once  said  to  Grattan,  "  If  you  were  now  only 
twenty  years  old,  and  Cooke  were  about  to  set  sail 
round  the  world,  should  you  like  to  accompany 
him  ? "  He  answered,  "  I  have  no  wish  to  see  such 
countries  as  he  saw :  I  should  like  to  see  Home, 
Athens,  and  some  parts  of  Asia ;  but  little  besides." 

He  declared  that  he  had  rather  be  shot  than  go 
up  in  a  balloon. 

Grattan's  uncle,  Dean  Marley,  gave  the  nicest 
little  dinners  and  kept  the  best  company  in  Dublin : 
his  parties  were  delightful.  At  that  time  he  had 
about  four  hundred  a  year.  Afterwards,  when  he 
succeeded  to  an  estate  and  was  made  a  Bishop,  he 

cottage-girl  produced  on  Wordsworth — "  Her  beauty  made  me  glad? 
We  are  Seven.  Speaking  to  me  of  the  poem  just  cited,  Wordsworth 
said,  "  It  is  founded  on  fact.  I  met  a  little  girl  near  Goderich  Cas 
tle,  who,  though  some  of  her  brothers  and  sisters  were  dead,  would 
talk  of  them  in  the  present  tense.  I  wrote  that  poem  backward, — 
that  is,  I  began  with  the  last  stanza." — ED. 


176  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

gave  great  dinners  chiefly  to  people  of  rank  and 
fashion  (foolish  men  and  foolish  women)  ;  and  his 
parties  lost  all  their  charm. 

He  had  a  good  deal  of  the  humour  t>f  Swift. 
Once,  when  the  footman  was  out  of  the  way,  he 
ordered  the  coachman  to  fetch  some  water  from  the 
well.  To  this  the  coachman  objected,  that  his  busi 
ness  was  to  drive,  not  to  run  on  errands.  "  Well, 
then,"  said  Marley,  "  bring  out  the  coach  and  four, 
set  the  pitcher  inside,  and  drive  to  the  well ; " — a 
service  which  was  several  times  repeated,  to  the 
great  amusement  of  the  village. 


Places  are  given  away  by  Government  as  often 
for  the  sake  of  silencing  animosity  as  in  the  hope  of 
assistance  from  the  parties  benefited. 


The  French  Revolution  was  the  greatest  event 
in  Europe  since  the  irruption  of  the  Goths. 


The  most  beautiful  and  magnificent  view  on  the 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  177 

face  of  the  earth  is  the  prospect  of  Mont  Blanc  from 
the  Jura  Mountains. 


Archibald  Hamilton,  afterwards  Duke  of  Hamil 
ton,*  (as  his  daughter,  Lady  Dunmore,  told  me) 
advertised  for  <*  a  Hermit "  as  an  ornament  to  his 
pleasure-grounds ;  and  it  was  stipulated  that  the  said 
Hermit  should  have  his  beard  shaved  but  once  a 
year,  and  that  only  partially. 

A  friend,  calling  on  him  one  forenoon,  asked  if 
it  was  true  that  he  kept  a  young  tame  tiger.  He 
immediately  slapped  his  thighs,  and  uttered  a  sort 
of  whistle ;  and  forth  crept  the  long-backed  animal 
from  under  the  sofa.  The  visitor  soon  retreated. 


Lord  Shelburne  could  say  the  most  provoking 
things,  and  yet  appear  quite  unconscious  of  their 
being  so.  In  one  of  his  speeches,  alluding  to  Lord 
Carlisle,  he  said,  "The  noble  lord  has  written  a 
comedy."  "  JSTo,  a  tragedy."  f — "  Oh,  I  beg  pardon  ; 
I  thought  it  was  a  comedy" 


*  Ninth  Duke  of  Hamilton. — ED.     f  The  Father's  Revenge. — ED. 
8* 


1V8  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

Only  look  at  that  sunset !  it  is  enough  to  make 
one  feel  devout. — I  was  once  driving  through  the 
Park  on  my  way  to  a  dinner-party,  when  the  sun 
was  setting  so  beautifully  that  I  could  not  resist 
staying  to  see  all  that  I  could  see  of  it ;  and  so  I 
desired  the  coachman  to  drive  me  round  and  round 
till  it  was  fairly  set.  Dinner  was  begun  when  I 
arrived  ;  but  that  did  not  much  matter.* 

Once  at  Thomas  Grenville's  f  house  I  was  raptu 
rously  admiring  a  sunset.  "Yes,"  he  observed,  "it 

is  very  handsome : "  and  some  time  after,  when^ 

was  admiring  another  sunset,  he  said,  "  Why,  you 
are  as  foolish  as  Rogers." 


When  a  lady,  a  friend  of  mine,  was  in  Italy,  she 

*  Those  who  were  not  acquainted  with  Mr.  Eogers  may  perhaps 
think  that  there  was  some  affectation  in  all  this  :  but  assuredly  there 
was  none.  In  the  passage  with  which  Italy  now  concludes,  he  says, 
describing  himself, — 

"  Nature  denied  him  much ; 
But  gave  him  at  his  birth  what  most  he  values, 
A  passionate  love  for  music,  sculpture,  painting, 
For  poetry,  the  language  of  the  gods, 
For  all  things  here  or  grand  or  beautiful, 
A  Setting  Sun,  a  lake  among  the  mountains,"  &c. — ED. 
f  The  Right  Honourable  T.  G.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  179 

went  into  a  church,  and  knelt  down  among  the  crowd. 
An  Italian  woman,  who  was  praying  at  some  little 
distance,  rose  up,  came  softly  to  my  friend,  whispered 
in  her  ear,  "  If  you  continue  to  flirt  with  my  hus 
band,  I'll  be  the  death  of  you ; "  and  then,  as  softly, 
returned  to  her  genuflections.  Such  things  cannot 
happen  where  there  are  pews. 


I  know  few  lines  finer  than  the  concluding  stanza 
of  Life*  by  Mrs.  Barbauld,  who  composed  it  when 
she  was  very  old  ; 

"  Life  !  we've  been  long  together, 
Through  pleasant  and  through  cloudy  weather : 
'Tis  hard  to  part  when  friends  are  dear  ; 
Perhaps  'twill  cost  a  sigh,  a  tear  ; 
Then  steal  away,  give  little  warning, 

Choose  thine  own  time, 

Say  not  Good  Night,  but  in  some  brighter  clime 
Bid  me  Good  Morning." 

Sitting  with  Madame  D'Arblay  some  weeks  be- 

*  Wordsworth  also  thought  very  highly  of  these  lines:  see  his 
Memoirs,  ii.  222.— ED. 


180  RECOLLECTIONS   OF  THE 

fore  she  died,  I  said  to  her,  "  Do  you  remember 
those  lines  of  Mrs.  Barbauld's  Life  which  I  once 
repeated  to  you?"  "Remember  them!"  she  re 
plied  ;  "I  repeat  them  to  myself  every  night  before 
I  go  to  sleep." 

Strangely  enough,*  in  spite  of  her  correct  taste, 
Mrs.  Barbauld  was  quite  fascinated  by  Darwin's  Bo 
tanic  Garden  when  it  first  appeared,  and  talked  of 
it  with  rapture ;  for  which  I  scolded  her  heartily. 

One  day,  as  she  was  going  to  Hampstead  in  the 
stage-coach,  she  had  a  Frenchman  for  her  companion ; 
and  entering  into  conversation  with  him,  she  found 
that  he  was  making  an  excursion  to  Hampstead  for 
the  express  purpose  of  seeing  the  house  in  the  Flask 
Walk  where  Clarissa  liarlowe  lodged.f  What  a 
compliment  to  the  genius  of  Richardson  ! 


*  It  is  not  so  strange,  when  we  recollect  that  The  Botanic  Garden 
fascinated  even  Cowper :  see  his  verses  to  Darwin,  written  in  con 
junction  with  Hayley. — Wordsworth  once  said  to  me :  "  Darwin  had 
not  an  atom  of  feeling :  he  was  a  mere  eye-voluptuary.  He  has  so 
many  similes  all  "beginning  with  '  So,'  that  I  used  to  call  The  Botanic 
Garden  so-so  poetry.' " — ED. 

f  "  The  writer  of  these  observations  well  remembers  a  French 
man  who  paid  a  visit  to  Hampstead  for  the  sole  purpose  of  finding 
out  the  house  in  the  fask-walk  where  Clarissa  lodged,  and  was  sur- 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  181 

Bobus  Smith  *  (who  could  repeat  by  heart  an 
astonishing  quantity  of  Latin  prose)  used  to  admire 
greatly  the  "  raptor,  largitor  "  f  of  Tacitus.  I  am 
inclined  to  prefer  Sallust's  expression,  "  alieni  appe- 
tens,  sui  profusus."  \ 

A  few  days  before  his  death,  Bobus  said  to  me, 
"  Rogers,  however  we  may  doubt  on  some  points,  we 
have  made  up  our  minds  on  one, — that  Christ  was 
sent  into  the  world  commissioned  by  the  Almighty 
to  instruct  mankind."  I  replied,  "  Yes  ;  of  that  I 
am  perfectly  convinced." 


When  I  was  a  lad,  I  recollect  seeing  a  whole 

prised  at  the  ignorance  or  indifference  of  the  inhabitants  on  that 
subject.  The  flask-walk  was  to  him  as  much  classic  ground  as  the 
rocks  of  Meillerie  to  the  admirers  of  Rousseau ;  and  probably,  if  an 
English  trave'ler  were  to  make  similar  inquiries  in  Switzerland,  he 
Avould  find  that  the  rocks  of  Meillerie  and  the  chalets  of  the  Valais 
suggested  no  ideas  to  the  inhabitants  but  such  as  were  connected  with 
their  dairies  and  their  farms.  A  constant  residence  soon  destroys  all 
sensibility  to  objects  of  local  enthusiasm."  Mrs.  Barbauld's  Life  of 
Richardson,  p.  cix. — ED. 

*  i.  e.  Robert  Smith,  the  elder  brother  of  Sydney,  and  one  of 
the  best  writers  of  Latin  verse  since  the  days  of  the  ancients.  Bo 
bus  was  the  nickname  given  to  him  by  his  schoolfellows  at  Eton. 
—ED. 

t  Hist.  lib.  ii.  c.  86.— ED. 

\  Bell.  Cat.,  near  the  beginning. — ED. 


182  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

cartful  of  young  girls,  in  dresses  of  various  colours, 
on  their  way  to  be  executed  at  Tyburn.  They  had 
all  been  condemned,  on  one  indictment,  for  having 
been  concerned  in  (that  is,  perhaps,  for  having  been 
spectators  of)  the  burning  of  some  houses  during 
Lord  George  Gordon's  riots.  It  was  quite  horrible. 
— Greville  was  present  at  one  of  the  trials  consequent 
on  those  riots,  and  heard  several  boys  sentenced, 
to  their  own  excessive  amazement,  to  be  hanged. 
"  ISTever,"  said  Greville  with  great  naivete,  "  did  I 
see  boys  cry  so" 


I  once  observed  to  a  friend  of  mine,  "  Why,  you 

and  Mr. live  like  two  brothers."  He  replied, 

"  God  forbid !  "  And  it  must  be  confessed  that  most 
of  the  "  misunderstandings  "  which  we  hear  of,  exist 
between  brothers  and  sisters.  These  "misunder 
standings  "  often  arise  from  the  eminence  acquired 
by  some  one  member  of  a  family,  which  the  others 
cannot  endure. 

In  my  youth,  just  as  I  was  beginning  to  be  a 
little  known,  I  felt  much  gratified  by  an  invitation 
to  breakfast  with  Townley,  the  statue  collector; 
and  one  night,  at  home,  I  mentioned  the  invitation. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  183 

"  You  have  told  us  that  before,"  was  the  remark. 
In  days  of  old  they  used  to  put  an  obnoxious  bro 
ther  into  a  pit,  and  sell  him  to  the  Ishmaelites. — I 
became  very  intimate  with  Townley,  who  liked  me 
because  I  w.as  so  fond  of  art.  I  have  stayed  with 
him  for  days,  both  in  London  and  in  the  country  ; 
indeed,  I  was  in  his  house  when  he  died. 


Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  told  me,  that  when  he,  in 
his  boyhood,  had  received  a  prize  *  from  the  Society 

*  Sometimes,  in  telling  this  anecdote,  Mr.  Rogers  would  speak 
of  young  Lawrence's  prize  as  "  a  medal  which  he  put  on,"  &c.  But 
from  Williams's  Life  of  Lawrence  it  appears  that  the  prize  adjudged 
to  him  in  1784  by  the  Society  of  Arts  (for  a  drawing  in  crayons 
after  the  Transfiguration  of  Raphael)  was  the  silver  palette  entirely 
gilt  and  five  guineas.  "It  was  the  law  of  the  Society,  that  a  work 
of  this  description,  to  compete  for  the  main  prize  [the  gold  medal] 
must  he  performed  within  one  year  prior  to  the  date  at  which  it  is 
sent  to  the  Society.  Mr.  Lawrence's  drawing  was  marked  as  per 
formed  in  1782,  and  it  was  not  sent  to  the  Society  till  the  year  1784  ; 
and  this  excluded  it,  according  to  the  conditions  of  the  Society, 
from  heing  taken  into  consideration  for  the  higher  prize.  It  was 
considered,  however,  to  possess  such  very  extraordinary  merit,  that 
the  Society  was  not  content  with  putting  the  gilt  rim  to  the  palette, 
but  ordered  it  to  be  entirely  gilt.  Pecuniary  rewards  for  works  of  art 
had  long  been  abandoned ;  and  this  vote  of  five  guineas  was  a  very 
striking  testimony  of  the  opinions  of  the  Society  in  favour  of  the  work." 
rol.  i.  90.— ED. 


184  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

of  Arts,  lie  went  with  it  into  the  parlour  where  his 
brothers  and  sisters  were  sitting ;  but  that  not  one 
of  them  would  take  the  slightest  notice  of  it ;  and 
that  he  was  so  mortified  by  their  affected  indiffer 
ence,  that  he  ran  up  stairs  to  his  own  room,  and 
burst  into  tears. 

On  coming  home  late  one  night,  I  found  Sir 
Thomas  Lawrence  in  the  street,  hovering  about  my* 
door,  and  waiting  for  my  return.  He  immediately 
began  the  tale  of  his  distress, — telling  me  that  he  was 
in  pressing  want  of  a  large  sum  of  money,  and  that  he 
depended  on  my  assistance,  being  sure  that  I  would 
not  like  to  see  the  President  of  the  Royal  Academy 
a  bankrupt.  I  replied  that  I  would  try  what  I  could 
do  for  him  next  morning.  Accordingly,  I  went  early 
to  Lord  Dudley.  "As  you,"  I  said,  "  can  command 
thousands  and  thousands  of  pounds,  and  have  a  truly 
feeling  heart,  I  want  you  to  help  a  friend  of  mine, — 
not,  however,  by  a  gift,  but  either  by  a  loan,  or  by 
purchasing  some  valuable  articles  which  he  has  to 
sell."  Dudley,  on  learning  the  particulars,  accom 
panied  me  to  Sir  Thomas's  house,  where  we  looked 
at  several  pictures  which  he  wished  to  dispose  of  in 
:>rder  to  meet  the  present  difficulty.  Most  of  them 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   EOGEKS.  185 

were  early  pictures  of  the  Italian  school,  and,  though 
valuable,  not  pleasing  perhaps  to  any  except  artists. 
Dudley  bought  one  of  them  (a  Raphael,  in  his  first 
style,  as  it  was  called,  and  probably  was),  giving,  I 
believe,  more  than  a  thousand  guineas  for  it ;  and 
he  lent  Sir  Thomas,  on  a  bond,  a  very  considerable 
sum  besides.  No  doubt,  if  Lawrence  had  lived,  he 
would  have  repaid  Lord  Dudley  by  instalments; 
but  he  died  soon  after,  and  not  a  penny  was  ever 
paid  back.  This  to  so  very  wealthy  a  man  as  Dud 
ley  was  of  no  consequence  ;  and  I  dare  say  he  never 
thought  about  it  at  all. — Sir  Thomas  at  the  time  of 
his  death  was  a  good  deal  in  my  debt ;  nor  was  I 
ever  repaid. — He  used  to  purchase  works  of  art, 
especially  drawings  of  the  old  masters,  at  immense 
prices;  he  was  careless  in  keeping  accounts;  and 
he  was  very  generous  :  hence  his  difficulties,  which 
were  every  now  and  then  occurring. 


When  I  mentioned  to  Mrs.  Siddons  the  anecdote 
of  "  Lawrence  and  his  prize,"  she  said,  "  Alas !  after 
I  became  celebrated,  none  of  my  sisters  loved  me 
as  they  did  before." 


186  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   TIIE 

Mrs.  Siddons  told  me,  that  one  night  as  she  step 
ped  into  her  carriage  to  return  home  from  the  thea 
tre,  Sheridan  suddenly  jumped  in  after  her.  "  Mr. 
Sheridan,"  she  said,  "  I  trust  that  you  will  behave 
with  all  propriety :  if  you  do  not,  I  shall  immediately 
let  down  the  glass,  and  desire  the  servant  to  show 
you  out."  Sheridan  did  behave  with  all  propriety : 
"  but,"  continued  Mrs.  Siddons,  "  as  soon  as  we  had 
reached  my  house  in  Maryborough  Street,  and  the 
footman  had  opened  the  carriage-door, — only  think ! 
the  provoking  wretch  bolted  out  in  the  greatest 
haste,  and  slunk  away,  as  if  anxious  to  escape  un 
seen  ! " 

After  she  had  left  the  stage,  Mrs.  Siddons,  from 
the  want  of  excitement,  was  never  happy.  When  I 
was  sitting  with  her  of  an  afternoon,  she  would  say, 
"  Oh,  dear!  this  is  the  time  I  used  to  be  thinking 
of  going  to  the  theatre :  first  came  the  pleasure  of 
dressing  for  my  part ;  and  then  the  pleasure  of  act 
ing  it;  but  that  is  all  over  now." 

When  a  grand  public  dinner  was  given  to  John 
Kemble  on  his  quitting  the  stage,  Mrs.  Siddons  said 
to  me,  "  Well,  perhaps  in  the  next  world  women 
will  be  more  valued  than  they  are  in  this."  She 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  187 

alluded  to  the  comparatively  little  sensation  which 
had  been  produced  by  her  own  retirement  from  the 
boards  :  and  doubtless  she  was  a  far,  far  greater 
performer  than  John  Keinble. 

Combe  *  recollected  having  seen  Mrs.  Siddons, 
when  a  very  young  woman,  standing  by  the  side  of 
her  father's  stage,  and  knocking  a  pair  of  snuffers 
against  a  candlestick,  to  imitate  the  sound  of  a  wind 
mill,  during  the  representation  of  some  Harlequin- 
piece. 

*  See  p.  112. — Combe  had  conceived  a  violent  dislike  to  Mrs. 
Siddons, — why  I  know  not.  In  a  passage  of  his  best  work  he  stu 
diously  avoids  the  mention  of  her  name  ; — 

"  The  Drama's  children  strut  and  play 

In  borrow'd  parts,  their  lives  away ; — 

And  then  they  share  the  oblivious  lot ; 

Smith  will,  like  Gibber,  be  forgot ! 

Gibber  with  fascinating  art 

Could  wake  the  pulses  of  the  heart ; 

But  hers  is  an  expiring  name, 

And  darling  Smith's  will  be  the  same." 

The  Tour  of  Doctor  Syntax  in  Search  of  the 

Picturesque,  p.  229,  third  ed.  1813. 

The  "  darling  Smith"  was  the  late  Mrs.  Bartley. — Mrs.  Siddons  used 
to  say  that  the  public  had  a  sort  of  pleasure  in  mortifying  their  old 
favourites  by  setting  up  new  idols ;  that  she  herself  had  been  three 
times  threatened  with  an  eclipse, — first  by  means  of  Miss  Brunton 
(afterwards  Lady  Craven),  next  by  means  of  Miss  Smith,  and  lastly 
by  means  of  Miss  O'Nefl:  "nevertheless,"  she  added,  "I  am  not  yet 
ex  tinguished." — ED. 


188  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

John  Kemble  was  often  very  amusing  when  he 
had  had  a  good  deal  of  wine.  He  and  two  friends 
were  returning  to  town  in  an  open  carriage  from  the 
Priory  (Lord  Abercorn's)  where  they  had  dined ; 
and  as  they  were  waiting  for  change  at  a  toll-gate, 
Kemble,  to  the  amazement  of  the  toll-keeper,  called 
out  in  the  tone  of  Rolla,  "  We  seek  no  change  •  and, 
least  of  all,  such  change  as  he  would  bring  us."  * 

"When  Kemble  was  living  at  Lausanne,  he  used 
to  feel  rather  jealous  of  Mont  Blanc ;  he  disliked 
to  hear  people  always  asking  "  How  does  Mont 
Blanc  look  this  morning  ? " 


Sir  George  Beaumont,  f  when  a  young  man,  was 
introduced  at  Home  to  an  old  painter,  who  in  his 
youth  had  known  an  old  painter,  who  had  seen 
Claude  and  Gaspar  Poussin  riding  out,  in  a  morn 
ing,  on  mules,  and  furnished  with  palettes,  &c.,  to 
make  sketches  in  the  Campagna. 

*  Pizarro,  act  il  sc.  2  (where  it  is  " as  they  would  bring  us"). 

—ED. 

\  During  his  latter  years,  I  have  sometimes  heard  Mr.  Rogers 
state  that  he  was  himself  introduced  to  the  old  painter,"  &c. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  189 

Three  Irishmen  (I  am  glad  that  they  were  not 
Englishmen)  went  up  Vesuvius.  They  stopped  at 
the  hermitage  to  refresh  themselves  ;  and  while  they 
were  drinking  lachrima  Christi  there,  the  Emperor 
and  Empress  of  Austria  arrived.  The  three  Irish 
men  positively  refused  to  admit  them;  but  after 
wards,  on  being  told  that  a  lady  was  outside,  they 
offered  to  give  up  half  the  apartment.  Upon  this, 
the  attendants  of  the  Emperor  (though  against  his 
wish)  speedily  cleared  the  hermitage  of  the  three 
Irishmen,  who,  in  a  great  passion,  proceeded  up  to 
the  crater.  As  they  were  coming  down  again,  they 
met  the  royal  personages,  whom  they  abused  most 
heartily,  calling  the  Empress  a  variety  of  names 
under  her  bonnet.  No  notice  of  all  this  was  ever 
taken  by  the  Emperor :  but,  the  story  having  got 
wind  immediately,  the  three  Irishmen  thought  it  best 
to  decamp  next  morning  from  Naples,  their  conduct 
having  excited  the  highest  indignation  among  the 
British  who  were  resident  there. — I  once  told  this 
anecdote  at  Lord  LonsdaVs  table,  when  Lord  Eldon 
and  Lord  Castlereagh  were  present ;  and  the  remark 
of  Lord  Castlereagh  was,  "  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  it 
is  too  true." 


190  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

The  Colosseum  in  the  Regent's  Park  is  a  noble 
building, — finer  than  any  thing  among  the  remains 
of  ancient  architectural  art  in  Italy.  It  is  ridiculous 
to  hear  Englishmen  who  have  been  at  Rome  talking 
with  such  rapture  of  the  ancient  buildings  they  have 
seen  there  :  in  fact,  the  old  Romans  were  but  indif 
ferent  architects. 


Georgiana,  Duchess  of  Devonshire,  was  not  so 
beautiful  as  she  was  fascinating ;  her  beauty  was  not 
that  of  features,  but  of  expression.  Every  body  knows 
her  poem,  Mount  St.  Gothard  ;  she  wrote  also  what 
is  much  less  known,  a  novel  called  The  Sylph* 
Gaming  was  the  rage  during  her  day :  she  indulged 
in  it,  and  was  made  miserable  by  her  debts.  A  faro- 
table  was  kept  by  Martindale,  at  which  the  Duchess 
and  other  high  fashionables  used  to  play.  Sheridan 
said  that  the  Duchess  and  Martindale  had  agreed 
that  whatever  they  two  won  from  each  other  should 
be  sometimes  double,  sometimes  treble,  the  sum  which 
it  was  called ;  and  Sheridan  assured  us  that  he  had 
handed  the  Duchess  into  her  carriage  when  she  was 

*  1788.     2  vols.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    KOGERS.  191 

literally  sobbing  at  her  losses, — she  perhaps  having 
lost  1500Z.,  when  it  was  supposed  to  be  only  500£. 

General  Fitzpatrick  said  that  the  Duke's  love 
for  her  grew  quite  cool  a  month  after  their  mar 
riage  ;  that  she  had  many  sighing  swains  at  her 
feet, — among  others,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who  chose 
to  believe  that  she  smiled  upon  Lord  Grey  ;  and 
hence  the  hatred  which  the  Prince  bore  to  him. 

The  Duke,  when  walking  home  from  Brookes's 
about  day-break  (for  he  did  not  relish  the  gaieties  at 
Devonshire  House)  used  frequently  to  pass  the  stall 
of  a  cobbler  who  had  already  commenced  his  work. 
As  they  were  the  only  persons  stirring  in  that  quar 
ter,  they  alwrays  saluted  each  other.  "  Good  night, 
friend,"  said  the  Duke.  "  Good  morning,  sir,"  said 
the  cobbler. 

The  Duchess  was  dreadfully  hurt  at  the  novel  A 
Winter  in  London :  *  it  contained  various  anecdotes 
concerning  her,  which  had  been  picked  up  from  her 
confidential  attendants  ;  and  she  thought,  of  course, 
that  the  little  great  world  in  which,  she  lived  was  inti- 

*  In  3  vols.,  by  T.  S.  Surr.  The  Duchess  figures  in  it  under  the 
name  of  the  Duchess  of  Belgrave.  This  novel  (which  was  much  read 
tit  the  time)  is  inferior  to  any  second-rate  worh  of  fiction  of  the  present 
day. — ED. 


192  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

mately  acquainted  with  all  her  proceedings.  "  Never 
read  that  book,  for  it  has  helped  to  kill  me,"  were 
her  words  to  a  very  near  relative. 


I  introduced  Sir  Walter  Scott  to  Madame 
D'Arblay,  having  taken  him  with  me  to  her  house. 
She  had  not  heard  that  he  was  lame ;  and  when  he 
limped  towards  a  chair,  she  said,  "  Dear  me,  Sir 
Walter,  I  hope  you  have  not  met  with  an  acci 
dent  ? "  He  answered,  "  An  accident,  madam,  nearly 
as  old  as  my  birth." 

At  the  time  when  Scott  and  Byron  were  the  two 
lions  of  London,  Hookham  Frere  observed,  "  Great 
poets  formerly  (Homer  and  Milton)  were  blind ;  now 
they  are  lame." 

One  forenoon  Scott  was  sitting  for  his  bust  to 
Chantrey,  who  was  quite  in  despair  at  the  dull  and 
heavy  expression  of  his  countenance.  Suddenly, 
Fuller  («  Jack  Fuller,"  the  then  buffoon  of  the 
House  of  Commons)  was  announced  by  a  servant ; 
and,  as  suddenly,  Scott's  face  was  lighted  up  to 
that  pitch  of  animation  which  the  sculptor  desired, 
and  which  he  made  all  haste  to  avail  himself  of. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGERS.  193 

After  dining  at  my  house,  Sir  Walter  (then  Mr.) 
Scott  accompanied  me  to  a  party  given  by  Lady 
Jersey.  We  met  Sheridan  there,  who  put  the  ques 
tion  to  Scott  in  express  terms,  "  Pray,  Mr.  Scott, 
did  you,  or  did  you  not,  write  Waverley  f  "  Scott 
replied,  "  On  my  honour -,  I  did  not."  Now,  though 
Scott  may  perhaps  be  justified  for  returning  an 
answer  in  the  negative,  I  cannot  think  that  he  is 
to  be  excused  for  strengthening  it  with  "  on  my 
honour." 

There  is  a  very  pleasing  spirit  of  kindness  in 
Scott's  Life  of  Swift  and  Lives  of  the  Novelists  ;  he 
endeavours  to  place  every  body's  actions  in  the  most 
favourable  light. 

As  a  story,  his  Lady  of  the  Lake  is  delightful.* 
— On  the  whole,  his  poetry  is  too  carelessly  written 
to  suit  my  taste  ;  but  parts  of  it  are  very  happy ; 
these  lines  of  Marmion,  for  instance ; 

"  To  seize  the  moment  Marmion  tried, 
And  whisper' d  to  the  king  aside : 
'  Oh,  let  such  tears  unwonted  plead 


*  I  have  heard  Wordsworth  say  that  it  was  one  of  the  most 
charming  stories  ever  invented  by  a  poet. — ED. 
9 


194  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

For  respite  short  from  dubious  deed ! 
A  child  will  weep  a  bramble's  smart, 
A  maid  to  see  her  sparrow  part, 
A  stripling  for  a  woman's  heart : 
But  woe  awaits  a  country  when 
She  sees  the  tears  of  bearded  men. 
Then,  oh,  what  omen,  dark  and  high, 
When  Douglas  wets  his  manly  eye ! '  "  * 

and  the  still  better  passage  in  the  same  poem 

"  O  woman !  in  our  hours  of  ease, 
Uncertain,  coy,  and  hard  to  please, 
And  variable  as  the  shade 

the  light  quivering  aspen  made  ; 

to  pain  and  anguish  wring  the  brow, 
-\ 
inktering  angel  thou  !  "  f 


Why  there  should  be  evil  in  the  world  is  indeed 
a  mystery.  Milton  attempts  to  answer  the  question ; 
but  he  has  not  done  it  satisfactorily.  The  three 
acntest  men  with  whom  I  was  ever  acquainted,  Sir 
Tames  Mackintosh,  Maltlins,  and  Bobus  Smith,  J  were 

*  Canto  v.  xvi. — ED.  t  Canto  vi.  xxx. — ED. 

J  See  note,  p.  181. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  195 

all  agreed  that  the  attributes  of  the  Deity  must  be 
in  some  respects  limited,  else  there  would  be  no  sin 
and  misery.* 


"When  I  lived  in  the  Temple,  Mackintosh  and 
Richard  Sharp  used  to  come  to  my  chambers,  and 
stay  there  for  hours,  talking  metaphysics.  One  day 
they  were  so  intent  on  their  "  first  cause,"  "  spirit," 
and  "  matter,"  that  they  were  unconscious  of  my 
having  left  them,  paid  a  visit,  and  returned !  I  was 
a  little  angry  at  this,  and,  to  show  my  indifference 
about  them,  I  sat  down  and  wrote  letters,  without 
taking  any  notice  of  them. 

Mackintosh  told  me  that  he  had  received  in  his 
youth  comparatively  little  instruction, — whatever 
learning  he  possessed  he  owed  to  himself.  He  had  a 
prodigious  memory,  and  could  repeat  by  heart  more 
of  Cicero  than  you  would  easily  believe.  His  know 
ledge  of  Greek  was  slender.  I  never  met  a  man 
with  a  fuller  mind  than  Mackintosh, — such  readiness 
on  all  subjects,  such  a  talker  ! 

*  I  cannot  help  remarking — that  men  whom  the  world  regards  as 
far  greater  "lights"  than  the  three  above  mentioned,  have  thought 
very  differently  on  this  subject. — ED. 


196  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

I  once  travelled  with  him  on  the  Continent ;  yet, 
in  spite  of  his  delightful  conversation,  some  how  or 
other  we  did  not  hit  it  off  well.  At  Lausanne  my 
sister  and  I  went  to  see  Gibbon's  house  ;  and,  bor 
rowing  the  last  volume  of  the  Decline  and  Fall,  we 
read  the  concluding  passages  of  it  011  the  very  spot 
where  they  were  written.  But  such  an  amusement 
was  not  to  Mackintosh's  taste :  he  meanwhile  was 
trotting  about,  and  making  inquiries  concerning  the 
salaries  of  professors,  &c.  &c.  When  we  were  leav 
ing  Geneva,  I  could  not  find  my  sac-de-nuit,  and  was 
forced  to  buy  a  new  one.  On  stepping  into  the  car 
riage,  I  saw  there,  to  my  surprise,  the  lost  article, 
which  Mackintosh  had  very  coolly  taken  and  had 
stuffed  with  recently-purchased  books. 

Mackintosh  often  said  that  Herschel's  Discourse 
on  the  Study  of  Natural  Philosophy  was  undoubt 
edly  the  finest  thing  of  its  kind  since  the  publica 
tion  of  Bacon's  Novum  Organon. 


Lord  Ellenborough  had  "infinite  wit.  When  the 
income-tax  was  imposed,  he  said  that  Lord  Kenyon 
(who  was  not  very  nice  in  his  habits)  intended,  in  con 
sequence  of  it,  to  lay  down— his  pocket-handkerchief. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGEBS.  197 

A  lawyer  one  day  pleading  before  him,  and  using 
several  times  the  expression  "  my  unfortunate  client," 
Lord  Ellenborough  suddenly  interrupted  him, — 
"There,  sir,  the  court  is  with  you." 

Lord  Ellenborough  was  once  about  to  go  on  the 
circuit,  when  Lady  E.  said  that  she  should  like  to 
accompany  him.  He  replied  that  he  had  no  objec 
tions,  provided  she  did  not  encumber  the  carriage 
with  bandboxes,  which  were  his  utter  abhorrence. 
They  set  off.  During  the  first  day's  journey,  Lord 
Ellenborough,  happening  to  stretch  his  legs,  struck 
his  feet  against  something  below  the  seat.  He  dis 
covered  that  it  was  a  bandbox.  His  indignation  is 
not  to  be  described.  Up  went  the  window,  and  out 
went  the  bandbox.  The  coachman  stopped;  and 
the  foo i/men,  thinking  that  the  bandbox  had  tumbled 
out  of  the  window  by  some  extraordinary  chance, 
were  going  to  pick  it  up,  when  Lord  Ellenborough 
furiously  called  out,  "  Drive  on !  "  The  bandbox 
accordingly  wras  left  by  a  ditch-side.  Having 
reached  the  county-town  where  he  was  to  officiate 
as  judge,  Lord  Ellenborough  proceeded  to  array 
himself  for  his  appearance  in  the  court-house. 
"  Now,"  said  he,  "  where's  my  wig, — where  is  my 


198  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

wig  ?  "     "  My  Lord,"  replied  liis  attendant,  "it  was 
thrown  out  of  the  carriage-window." 


The  English  highwaymen  of  former  days  (in 
deed,  the  race  is  now  extinct)  were  remarkably  well- 
bred  personages.  Thomas  Grenville,*  while  travel 
ling  with  Lord  Derby ;  and  Lord  Tankerville,  while 
travelling  with  his  father  ;  were  attacked  by  high 
waymen  :  on  both  occasions,  six  or  seven  shots  were 
exchanged  between  them  and  the  highwaymen  ;  and 
when  the  parties  assailed  had  expended  all  their 
ammunition,  the  highwaymen  came  up  to  them,  and 
took  their  purses  in  the  politest  manner  possible. 


Foreigners  have  more  romance  in  their  natures 
than  we  English.  Fuseli,  during  his  later  years, 
used  to  be  a  very  frequent  visitor  of  Lady  Guilford, 
at  Putney  Hill.  In  the  grounds  belonging  to  her 
villa  there  was  a  statue  of  Flora  holding  a  wreath 
of  flowers.  Fuseli  would  frequently  place  in  the 
wreath  a  slip  of  paper,  containing  some  pretty  sen- 

*  The  Right  Honourable  T.  G.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    KOGERS.  199 

timent,  or  some  expressions  of  kindness,  intended 
for  Lady  Guilford's  daughters ;  who  would  take  it 
away,  and  replace  it  by  another  of  the  same  kind. 
When  one  of  these  ladies  told  me  this,  the  tears 
were  in  her  eyes. 


The  three  great  curses  of  Ireland  are,  Absentee 
ism,  Middle-men,  and  the  Protestant  Establishment. 


A  man  who  attempts  to  read  all  the  new  publi 
cations  must  often  do  as  a  flea  does — skip. 


Such  is  the  eagerness  of  the  human  mind  for  ex 
citement, — for  an  event, — that  people  generally  have 
a  sort  of  satisfaction  in  reading  the  deaths  of  their 
friends  in  the  newspapers.  I  don't  mean  that  a  man 
would  not  be  shocked  to  read  there  the  death  of  his 
child,  or  of  his  dearest  friend ;  but  that  he  feels  a 
kind  of  pleasure  in  reading  that  of  an  acquaintance, 
because  it  gives  him  something  to  talk  about  with 
every  body  on  whom  he  may  have  to  call  during 
the  day. 


200  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

You  remember  tlie  passage  in  King  Lear, — a 
passage  which  Mrs.  Siddons  said  that  she  never 
could  read  without  shedding  tears, — 

"  Do  not  laugh  at  me ; 
For  as  I  am  a  man,  I  think  this  lady 
To  be  my  child  Cordelia."  * 

Something  of  the  same  kind  happened  in  my  own 
family.  A  gentleman,  a  near  relation  of  mine,  was 
on  his  death-bed,  and  his  intellect  much  impaired, 
when  his  daughter,  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  a  con 
siderable  time,  entered  the  room.  He  looked  at  her 
with  the  greatest  earnestness,  and  then  exclaimed, 
"  I  think  I  should  know  this  lady : "  but  his  recog 
nition  went  no  further. 


One  morning  I  had  a  visit  from  Lancaster,  whom 
I  had  never  before  seen.  The  moment  he  entered 
the  room,  he  began  to  inform  me  of  his  distresses, 
and  burst  into  tears.  He  was  unable,  he  said,  to 
cany  on  his  school  for  want  of  money, — he  owed 
some  hundred  pounds  to  his  landlord, — he  had  been 
to  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  who  would  do 

*  Act  iv.  sc.  7. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  201 

nothing  for  him,  &c.  &c. ;  and  he  requested  me  to 
go  and  see  his  school.  I  went;  and  was  so  de 
lighted  with  what  I  saw  (the  system  of  monitors, 
&c.),  that  I  immediately  lent  him  the  sum  which  he 
stood  in  need  of;  and  he  put  his  title-deeds  into  my 
hands.  I  never  was  repaid  one  farthing  of  that 
money ;  indeed,  on  finding  that  Lancaster  owed 
much  larger  sums  both  to  William  Allen  and  to 
Joseph  Fox,  I  forbore  urging  my  claims,  and  re 
turned  the  title-deeds.* 


George  Selwyn,  as  everybody  knows,  delighted 
in  seeing  executions  ;  he  never  missed  "being  in  at  a 
death  at  Tyburn.  When  Lord  Holland  (the  father 
of  Charles  Fox)  was  confined  to  bed  by  a  dangerous 

*  I  was  well  acquainted  with  Lancaster.  He  once  canie  to 
me  in  great  agitation,  and  complained  bitterly  that  '  they  wanted  to 
put  him  under  the  control  of  a  committee,  who  were  to  allow  him 
365Z.  a-year,'  &c.  &c.  I  knew  how  thoughtless  and  improvident 
he  had  been,  driving  cbout  the  country  with  four  horses,  and  doing 
many  other  foolish  things ;  and  I  could  not  take  that  view  of  his 
case  which  he  wished  me  to  take.  This  offended  him  :  he  burst  into 
tears,  and  left  the  room,  declaring  that  he  would  never  again  come 
near  me.  He  went  to  America,  and  died  there  in  obscurity, — a  man 
who,  if  he  had  only  possessed  prudence,  might  have  had  statues 
erected  to  him."  MR.  MALTBY  (see  notice  prefixed  to  Pvrsoniana  in 
this  volume). — ED. 
9* 


202  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

illness,  lie  was  informed  by  his  servant  that  Mr. 
Selwyn  had  recently  called  to  inquire  for  him.  "  On 
his  next  visit,"  said  Lord  Holland,  "  be  sure  you  let 
him  in,  whether  I  am  alive  or  a  corpse  ;  for,  if  I  am 
alive,  /  shall  have  great  pleasure  in  seeing  him  / 
and  if  I  am  a  corpse,  he  will  have  great  pleasure  in 
seeing  me" — The  late  Lord  Holland  told  me  this. 


Payne  Knight  was  seized  with  an  utter  loathing 
of  life,  and  destroyed  himself.  He  had  complaints 
which  were  very  painful,  and  his  nerves  were  com 
pletely  shattered.*  Shortly  before  his  death,  he 
would  come  to  me  of  an  evening,  and  tell  me  how 
sick  he  was  of  existence.  He  had  recourse  to  the 
strongest  prussic  acid ;  and,  I  understand,  lie  was 
dead  lefore  it  touched  his  lips. 


Two  of  the  most  enchanting  lyrics  in  our  lan 
guage  are  Collins's  Ode  to  Evening,  and  Coleridge's 
Love.  The  former  could  not  possibly  be  improved 
by  the  addition  of  rhyme.  The  latter  is  so  exqui- 

*  Compare  this  account  with  an  incidental  mention  of  Payne 
Knight  in  Ugo  Foscolo's  Discarso  sul  Testo,  Sec.  di  Dante,  p.  26. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  203 

sitely  musical,  that  I  had  often  repeated  it  to  my 
self  before  I  discovered  that  the  first  and  third  lines 
of  each  stanza  do  not  rhyme. 

Coleridge  was  a  marvellous  talker.     One  morn 
ing,  when  Hookham  Frere  also  breafasted  with  me, 
Coleridge  talked  for  three  hours  without  intermis 
sion  about  poetry,  and  so  admirably,  that  I  wish 
every  word  he  uttered  had  been  written  down. 

But  sometimes  his  harangues  were  quite  unin 
telligible,  not  only  to  myself  but  to  others.  Words 
worth  and  I  called  upon  him  one  forenoon,  when  he 
was  in  a  lodging  off  Pall  Mall.  He  talked  uninter 
ruptedly  for  about  two  hours,  during  which  Words 
worth  listened  to  him  with  profound  attention,  every 
now  and  then  nodding  his  head  as  if  in  assent.  On 
quitting  the  lodging,  I  said  to  Wordsworth,  "  Well, 
for  my  own  part,  I  could  not  make  head  or  tail  of 
Coleridge's  oration :  pray  did  you  understand  it  ? " 
"Not  one  syllable  of  it,"  was  Wordsworth's  reply.* 

Speaking  of  composition,  Coleridge  said  most 

*  Wordsworth  once  observed  to  me  :  "  What  is  somewhere  stated 
in  print — that  I  said,  '  Coleridge  was  the  only  person  whose  intellect 
ever  astonished  me,'  is  quite  true.  His  conversation  was  even  finer  in 
his  youth  than  in  his  later  days ;  for,  as  he  advanced  in  life,  he  he- 
came  a  little  dreamy  and  hyper-metaphysical." — ED. 


204:  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

beautifully,  "  What  comes  from  the  heart  goes  to 
the  heart." 

Coleridge  spoke  and  wrote*  very  disparagingly 
of  Mackintosh :  but  Mackintosh,  who  had  not  a  par 
ticle  of  envy  or  jealousy  in  his  nature,  did  full  justice, 
on  all  occasions,  to  the  great  powers  of  Coleridge. 

Southey  used  to  say  that  "  the  moment  any 
thing  assumed  the  shape  of  a  duty,  Coleridge  felt 
himself  incapable  of  discharging  it." 


In  all  his  domestic  relations  Southey  was  the 
most  amiable  of  men ;  but  he  had  no  general  philan 
thropy  ;  he  was  what  you  call  a  cold  man.  He  was 
never  happy  except  when  reading  a  book  or  making 
one.  Coleridge  once  said  to  me,  "  I  can't  think  of 
Southey,  without  seeing  him  either  mending  or  using 
^  pen."  I  spent  some  time  with  him  at  Lord  Lons- 
dale's,  in  company  with  "Wordsworth  and  others ; 
and  while  the  rest  of  the  party  were  walking  about, 
talking,  and  amusing  themselves,  Southey  preferred 
sitting  solus  in  the  library.  "  How  cold  he  is ! "  was 

*  See,  in  Coleridge's  Poet.  Worlcs,  ii.  87  (ed.  Pickering),  The  Two 
Round  Spaces  on  the  Tomlbstonf,. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ftOGEKS.  205 

the  exclamation  of  Wordsworth, — himself  so  joyous 
and  communicative. 

Southey  told  me  that  he  had  read  Spenser  through 
about  thirty  times,  and  that  he  could  not  read  Pope 
through  once.  He  thought  meanly  of  Yirgil ;  so  did 
Coleridge ;  and  so,  at  one  time,  did  Wordsworth. 
When  I  lately  mentioned  to  Wordsworth  an  un 
favourable  opinion  which  he  had  formerly  expressed 
to  me  about  a  passage  of  Yirgil,  "  Oh,"  he  said,  "  we 
used  to  talk  a  great  deal  of  nonsense  in  those  days." 


Early  in  the  present  century,  I  set  out  on  a  tour 
in  Scotland,  accompanied  by  my  sister ;  but  an  acci 
dent  which  happened  to  her,  prevented  us  from  going 
as  far  as  we  had  intended.  During  our  excursion 
we  fell  in  with  Wordsworth,  Miss  Wordsworth,  and 
Coleridge,  who  were,  at  the  same  time,  making  a  tour 
in  a  vehicle  that  looked  very  like  a  cart.  Words 
worth  and  Coleridge  were  entirely  occupied  in  talk 
ing  about  poetry ;  and  the  whole  care  of  looking  out 
for  cottages  where  they  might  get  refreshment  and 
pass  the  night,  as  well  as  of  seeing  their  poor  horse 
fed  and  littered,  devolved  upon  Miss  Wordsworth. 
She  was  a  most  delightful  person, — so  full  of  talent, 


20'6  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

so  simple-minded,  and  so  modest !  If  I  am  not  mis 
taken,  Coleridge  proved  so  impracticable  a  travelling- 
companion,  that  Wordsworth  and  his  sister  were  at 
last  obliged  to  separate  from  him.*  During  that 
tour  they  met  with  Scott,  who  repeated  to  them  a 
portion  of  his  then  unpublished  Lay  •  which  Words 
worth,  as  might  be  expected,  did  not  greatly  admire.f 

I  do  indeed  regret  that  Wordsworth  has  printed 
only  fragments  of  his  sister's  Journal :  ^  it  is  most 
excellent,  and  ought  to  have  been  published  entire. 

I  was  walking  with  Lord  Lonsdale  on  the  terrace 
at  Lowther  Castle,  when  he  said,  "  I  wish  I  could  do 

*  "  Coleridge,"  writes  Wordsworth,  u  was  at  that  time  in  bad 
spirits,  and  somewhat  too  much  in  love  with  his  own  dejection ;  and 
he  departed  from  us,  as  is  recorded  in  my  sister's  journal,  soon  after 
we  left  Loch  Lomond."  Memoirs  of  Wordsworth,  i.  207.  This  tour 
took  place  in  1803. — ED. 

f  In  my  memoranda  of  Wordsworth's  conversation  I  find  this : 
"  From  Sir  Walter  Scott's  earliest  poems,  The  Eve  of  St.  John,  &c.  I 
did  not  suppose  that  he  possessed  the  power  which  he  afterwards  dis 
played,  especially  in  his  novels.  Coleridge's  Christabel  no  doiibt  gave 
him  the  idea  of  writing  long  hallad-poems  :  Dr.  Stoddart  had  a  very 
wicked  memory,  and  repeated  various  passages  of  it  (then  unpublished) 
to  Scott.  Part  of  the  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel  was  recited  to  me  by 
Scott  while  it  was  yet  in  manuscript ;  and  I  did  not  expect  that  it 
would  make  much  sensation :  but  I  was  mistaken ;  for  it  went  up  like 
a  balloon. — ED. 

\  A  large  portion  of  it  has  since  been  printed  in  the  Memaws  of 
her  brother. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGEKS.  207 

something  for  poor  Campbell."  My  rejoinder  was, 
"  I  wish  you  would  do  something  for  poor  Words 
worth,  who  is  in  such  straitened  circumstances,  that 
he  and  his  family  deny  themselves  animal  food  se 
veral  times  a  week."  Lord  Lonsdale  was  the  more 
inclined  to  assist  Wordsworth,  because  the  Words 
worth  family  had  been  hardly  used  by  the  preceding 
Lord  Lonsdale ;  and  he  eventually  proved  one  of 
his  kindest  friends. 

What  a  noble-minded  person  Lord  Lonsdale 
was !  I  have  received  from  him,  in  this  room, 
hundreds  of  pounds  for  the  relief  of  literary  men. 

I  never  attempted  to  write  a  sonnet,  because  I  do 
not  see  why  a  man,  if  he  has  any  thing  worth  saying, 
should  be  tied  down  to  fourteen  lines.  Wordsworth 
perhaps  appears  to  most  advantage  in  a  sonnet,  be 
cause  its  strict  limits  prevent  him  from  running  into 
that  wordiness  to  which  he  is  somewhat  prone.  Don't 
imagine  from  what  I  have  just  said,  that  I  mean  to 
disparage  Wordsworth :  he  deserves  all  his  fame. 

There  are  passages  in  Wordsworth  where  I  can 
trace  his  obligations  to  Usher's  Clio* 


*  Clio,  or  a  Discourse  on  Taste, — a  little  volume  of  no  ordinary 
merit. — ED. 


208  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

Hoppner  was  a  painter  of  decided  genius.  Some 
of  his  portraits  are  equal  to  any  modern  portraits ; 
and  his  Venus  is  certainly  fine. 

He  had  an  awful  temper, — the  most  spiteful 
person  I  ever  knew  !  He  and  I  were  members  of  a 
club  called  the  Council  of  Trent  (so  named  from  its 
consisting  of  thirty) ;  and  because,  on  one  occasion, 
I  was  interesting  myself  about  the  admission  of  an 
artist  whom  Hoppner  disliked,  Hoppner  wrote  me 
a  letter  full  of  the  bitterest  reproach.  Yet  he  had 
his  good  qualities.  He  had  been  a  singing-boy  at 
Windsor,*  and  consequently  was  allowed  "  the  run 
of  the  royal  kitchen  ; "  but  some  time  after  his  mar 
riage  (and,  it  was  supposed,  through  the  ill  offices  of 
West)  that  favour  was  withdrawn  ;  and  in  order  to 
conceal  the  matter  from  his  wife,  who,  he  knew, 
would  be  greatly  vexed  at  it,  Hoppner  occasionally, 
after  secretly  pocketing  a  roll  to  dine  upon,  would 
go  out  for  the  day,  and  on  his  return  pretend  that 
lie  had  been  dining  at  "Windsor. 

He  and  Gifford  were  the  dearest  friends  in  the 

*  In  consequence  of  the  sweetness  of  his  voice,  he  was  made  a 
chorister  in  the  Koyal  Chapel.  His  mother  was  one  of  the  German 
attendants  at  the  Palace.  See  A.  Cunningham's  Lives  of  British 
Painters,  v.  242. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    KOGERS.  209 

world ;  and  yet  they  were  continually  falling  out 
and  abusing  each  other.  One  morning,  Hoppner, 
having  had  some  little  domestic  quarrel  with  Mrs. 
Hoppner,  exclaimed  very  vehemently,  "  Is  not  a 
man  to  be  pitied  who  has  such  a  wife  and  such  a 
friend  "  (meaning  Gilford)  ? 

His  wife  and  daughter  were  always  grumbling, 
because,  when  Tie  was  asked  to  the   Duchess  of 

's  or  to  Lord 's,  they  were  not  invited  also ; 

and  he  once  said  to  them,  "  I  might  as  well  attempt 
to  take  the  York  waggon  with  me  as  you."  Indeed, 
society  is  so  constituted  in  England,  that  it  is  useless 
for  celebrated  artists  to  think  of  bringing  their  fami 
lies  into  the  highest  circles,  where  themselves  are  ad 
mitted  only  on  account  of  their  genius.  Their  wives 
and  daughters  must  be  content  to  remain  at  home. 


Gifford  was  extremely  indignant  at  an  article  on 
his  translation  of  Juvenal  which  appeared  in  The 
Critical  Review  /  and  he  put  forth  a  very  angry 
answer  to  it, — a  large  quarto  pamphlet.  I  lent  my 
copy  to  Byron,  and  he  never  returned  it.  One  pas 
sage  in  that  pamphlet  is  curious,  because  it  describes, 


210  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

what  Gifford  was  himself  eventually  to  become, — a 
reviewer ;  who  is  compared  to  a  huge  toad  sitting 
under  a  stone  :  and  besides,  the  passage  is  very 
picturesque.  ["During  my  apprenticeship,  I  en 
joyed  perhaps  as  many  places  as  Scrub,  though  I 
suspect  they  were  not  altogether  so  dignified :  the 
chief  of  them  was  that  of  a  planter  of  cabbages  in  a 
bit  of  ground  which  my  master  held  near  the  town. 
It  was  the  decided  opinion  of  Panurge  that  the  life 
of  a  cabbage-planter  was  the  safest  and  pleasantest 
in  the  world.  I  found  it  safe  enough,  I  confess,  but 
not  altogether  pleasant;  and  therefore  took  every 
opportunity  of  attending  to  what  I  liked  better, 
which  happened  to  be,  watching  the  actions  of  in 
sects  and  reptiles,  and,  among  the  rest,  of  a  huge 
toad.  I  never  loved  toads,  but  I  never  molested 
them ;  for  my  mother  had  early  bid  me  remember, 
that  every  living  thing  had  the  same  Maker  as  my 
self  ;  and  the  words  always  rang  in  my  ears.  This 
toad,  then,  who  had  taken  up  his  residence  under  a 
hollow  stone  in  a  hedge  of  blind  nettles,  I  used  to 
watch  for  hours  together.  It  was  a  lazy,  lumpish 
animal,  that  squatted  on  its  belly,  and  perked  up  its 
hideous  head  with  two  glazed  eyes,  precisely  like  a 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  211 

Critical  Reviewer.  In  this  posture,  perfectly  satis 
fied  with  itself,  it  would  remain  as  if  it  were  a  part 
of  the  stone  which  sheltered  it,  till  the  cheerful  buz 
zing  of  some  winged  insect  provoked  it  to  give  signs 
of  life.  The  dead  glare  of  its  eyes  then  brightened 
into  a  vivid  lustre,  and  it  awkwardly  shuffled  to  the 
entrance  of  its  cell,  and  opened  its  detestable  mouth 
to  snap  the  passing  fly  or  honey-bee.  Since  I  have 
marked  the  manners  of  the  Critical  Reviewers,  these 
passages  of  my  youth  have  often  occurred  to  me." 
A.n  Examination  of  the*  Strictures  of  the  Critical 
Reviewers  on  the  Translation  of  Juvenal  ~by  W.  Gif- 
ford,  Esq.,  p.  101,  third  edit.  1804.] 

"When  the  Quarterly  Review  was  first  projected, 
Giiford  sent  lioppner  to  my  house  with  a  message 
requesting  me  to  become  a  contributor  to  it ;  which 
I  declined. 


That  odd  being,  D^,  Monsey  (Physician  to  the 
Royal  Hospital,  Chelsea),  used  to  hide  his  bank 
notes  in  various  holes  and  corners  of  his  house.  One 
evening,  before  going  out,  he  carefully  deposited  a 
bundle  of  them  among  the  coals  in  the  parlour-grate 
where  the  fire  was  ready  for  lighting.  Presently, 


212  EECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

his  housekeeper  came  into  the  parlour,  with  some 
of  her  female  friends,  to  have  a  comfortable  cup  of 
tea ;  and  she  was  in  the  act  of  lighting  the  fire  when 
the  doctor  luckily  returned,  and  rescued  his  notes. 
A  friend  of  mine,  who  had  been  intimate  with  Mon 
sey,  assured  me  that  this  was  fact. 

Bishop  Horsley  one  day  met  Monsey  in  the 
Park.  "  These  are  dreadful  times ! "  said  Horsley : 
"  not  only  do  deists  abound,  but, — would  you  think 
it,  doctor  ? — some  people  deny  that  there  is  a  God ! " 
"  I  can  tell  you,"  replied  Monsey,  "  what  is  equally 
strange, — some  people  believe  that  there  are  three."  * 
Horsley  immediately  walked  away. 


An  Englishman  and  a  Frenchman  having  quar 
relled,  they  were  to  fight  a  duel.  Being  both  great 
cowards,  they  agreed  (for  their  mutual  safety,  of 
course)  that  the  duel  should  take  place  in  a  room 
perfectly  dark.  The  Englishman  had  to  fire  first, 
He  groped  his  way  to  the  hearth,  fired  up  the  chim 
ney,  and  brought  down — the  Frenchman,  who  had 
taken  refuge  there. 

*  To  say  nothing  else  of  this  speech — it  was  a  very  rude  one,  as 
addressed  to  a  bishop.  But  Monsey  was  a  coarse  humorist,  who  would 
hardly  be  tolerated  in  the  present  day. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    KOGEKS.  213 

A  certain  man  of  pleasure  about  London  received 
a  challenge  from  a  young  gentleman  of  his  acquaint 
ance  ;  and  they  met  at  the  appointed  place.  Just 
before  the  signal  for  firing  was  given,  the  man  of 
pleasure  rushed  up  to  his  antagonist,  embraced  him, 
and  vehemently  protested  that  "he  could  not  lift  his 
arm  against  his  own  flesh  and  Wood!"  The  young 
gentleman,  though  he  had  never  heard  any  imputa 
tion  cast  upon  his  mother's  character,  was  so  much 
staggered,  that  (as  the  ingenious  man  of  pleasure  had 
foreseen)  no  duel  took  place. 

Humphrey  Howarth,  the  surgeon,  was  called  out, 
and  made  his  appearance  in  the  field  stark  naked,  to 
the  astonishment  of  the  challenger,  who  asked  him 
what  he  meant.  "I  know,"  said  H.,  "that  if  any 
part  of  the  clothing  is  carried  into  the  body  by  a 
gunshot  wound,  festering  ensues;  and  therefore  I 
have  met  you  thus."  His  antagonist  declared,  that 
fighting  with  a  man  in  puris  naturalibus  would  be 
quite  ridiculous ;  and  accordingly  they  parted  with 
out  further  discussion. 

Lord  Alvanley  on  returning  home,  after  his  duel 
with  young  O'Connel,  gave  a  guinea  to  the  hackney- 
coachman  who  had  driven  him  out  and  brought  him 


214  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

back.     The  man,  surprised  at  the  largeness  of  the 

sum,  said,  "My  lord,  I  only  took  yon  to  ." 

Alvanley  interrupted  him,  "  My  friend,  the  guinea 
is  for  bringing  me  ~back,  not  for  taking  me  out." 


I  was  on  a  visit  to  Lord  Bath  at  Longleat,  when 
I  received  a  letter  from  Beckford  inviting  me  to 
Fonthill.  I  went  there,  and  stayed  three  days.  On 
arriving  at  the  gate,  I  was  informed  that  neither 
my  servant  nor  my  horses  conld  be  admitted,  but 
that  Mr.  Beckford's  attendants  and  horses  should  be 
at  my  service.  The  other  visitors  at  that  time  were 
Smith,  who  published  Views  in  Italy*  and  a  French 
ecclesiastic,  a  very  elegant  and  accomplished  man. 
During  the  day  we  used  to  drive  about  the  beautiful 
grounds  in  pony-chaises.  In  the  evening  Beckford 
would  amuse  us  by  reading  one  of  his  unpublished 
works ;  or  he  would  extemporise  on  the  pianoforte, 
producing  the  most  novel  and  charming  melodies 
(which,  by  the  by,  his  daughter,  the  Duchess  of 
Hamilton,  can  do  also). 

*  Select  Views  in  Italy,  with  Descriptions,  Fr.  and  English,  by  John 
Smith,  1792-6,  2  vols.  4to.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  215 

I  was  struck  rather  by  the  refinement  than  by 
the  magnificence  of  the  hospitality  at  Fortthill.  I 
slept  in  a  bedroom  which  opened  into  a  gallery 
where  lights  were  kept  burning  the  whole  night. 
In  that  gallery  was  a  picture  of  St.  Antonio,  to  which 
it  was  said  that  Beckford  would  sometimes  steal  and 
pay  his  devotions. 

Beckford  read  to  me  the  two  unprinted  episodes 
to  Vatliekj  and  they  are  extremely  fine,  but  very 
objectionable  on  account  of  their  subjects.  Indeed, 
they  show  that  the  mind  of  the  author  was  to  a 
certain  degree  diseased.  The  one  is  the  story  of  a 
prince  and  princess,  a  brother  and  sister,  * 

The  other  is  the  tale  of  a  prince  who  is 
violently  enamoured  of  a  lady ;  and  who,  after  pur 
suing  her  through  various  countries,  at  last  overtakes 
her  only  to  find  her  a  corpse.  * 
In  one  of  these  tales  there  is  an  exquisite  description 
of  a  voyage  down  the  Nile. 

Beckford  is  the  author  of  two  burlesque  novels, 
—Asemia*  and  The  Elegant  Enthusiast.  I  have  a 
copy  of  the  former,  which  he  presented  to  me. 

He  read  to  me  another  tale  which  he  had  written 

*  Azemia :    a    descriptive    and  sentimental   Novel,,    interspersed   with 
pieces  of  Poetry.     By   Jacquetta  Agneta   Mariana  Jenks,  of  Bellegrovc 


216  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

— a  satirical  one.  It  was  in  French,  and  about  a,  man 
who  was  ridiculously  fond  of  dogs,  &c.  &c.  I  have 
been  told  that  a  part  of  his  own  life  was  shadowed 
out  in  it.  This  tale  he  never  printed.  In  fact,  he  had 
no  wish' to  obtain  literary  reputation  :  he  despised  it. 
I  have  seen  Beckford  shed  tears  while  talking  of 
his  deceased  wife.  His  eldest  daughter  (Mrs.  Orde  *), 

Priory  in  Wales.  Dedicated  to  the  Right  Honourable  Lady  Harriet 
Marlow.  To  which  are  added,  Criticisms  anticipated,  1797,  2  vols. 
— Modern  Novel  Writing,  or  the  Elegant  Enthusiast;  and  Interesting 
Emotions  of  Arabella  Bloomville.  A  Rhapsodical  Romance ;  inter 
spersed  with  Poetry.  By  the  Right  Hon.  Lady  Harriet  Marlow,  1796, 
2  vols.  "Talked  of  Beckford's  two  mock  novels,  'Agemia'  [Azemia] 
and  the  '  Elegant  Enthusiast,'  which  he  wrote  to  ridicule  the  novels 
written  by  his  sister,  Mrs.  Harvey  (I  think),  who  read  these  parodies 
on  herself  quite  innocently,  and  only  now  and  then  suspecting  that 
they  were  meant  to  laugh  at  her,  saying,  Why,  I  vow  and  protest, 
here  is  my  grotto,  &c.  &c.  In  the  '  Elegant  Enthusiast '  the  heroine, 
writes  a  song  which  she  sings  at  a  masquerade,  and  which  produces 
such  an  effect,  that  my  Lord  Mahogany,  in  the  character  of  a  Mile 
stone,  hursts  into  tears.  It  is  in  i  Agemia '  \_Azemm\  that  all  the  heroes 
and  heroines  are  killed  at  the  conclusion  by  a  supper  of  stewed  lampreys" 
Moore's  Memoirs,  &c.,  ii.  197.  As  to  the  catastrophe  of  Azemia, 
Moore  was  misinformed ;  that  tale  has  nothing  about  a  fatal  supper 
of  stewed  lampreys :  there  is,  however,  in  the  second  volume  of  The 
Elegant  Enthusiast  a  similar  incident,  "  owing  to  a  copper  stew-pan  in 
which  some  celery  had  been  cooked."  Both  these  novels  are  much  in 
the  style  of  Beckford's  Memoirs  of  Extraordinary  Painters,  but  greatly 
inferior  to  that  strange  production,  which  itself  is  unworthy  of  the 
author  of  VatheL — ED. 

*  Wife  of  Colonel,  afterwards  General  Orde. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  217 

who  has  been  long  dead,  was  both  in  appearance  and 
disposition  a  perfect  angel.  Her  delight  was,  not  to 
be  admired  herself,  but  to  witness  the  admiration 
which  her  sister  (the  Duchess  of  Hamilton)  never 
failed  to  excite. 

Beckford  was  eventually  reduced  to  such  straits, 
that  he  was  obliged  to  part  with  his  pictures,  one  by 
one.  The  last  picture  which  he  sold  to  the  National 
Gallery  was  Bellini's  portrait  of  the  Doge  of  Yenice. 
It  was  hung  up  the  very  day  on  which  Beckford 
died :  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  wrote  a  letter  to  me, 
requesting  that  it  might  be  returned  to  the  family ; 
but  his  application  came  too  late. 


When  Porson  dined  with  me,  I  used  to  keep  him 
within  bounds ;  but  I  frequently  met  him  at  various 
houses  where  he  got  completely  drunk.  He  would 
not  scruple  to  return  to  the  dining-room,  after  the 
company  had  left  it,  pour  into  a  tumbler  the  drops 
remaining  in  the  wine-glasses,  and  drink  off  the  om 
nium  gatherum.* 

*  Mr.  Maltby  (see  notice  prefixed  to  the  Parsoniana  in  this  vol.), 
who  was  present  when  Mr.  Rogers  told  the  above  anecdote,  said,  "  I 
have  seen  Porson  do  so." — ED. 
10 


218  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

I  once  took  him  to  an  evening  party  at  William 
Spencer's,  where  he  was  introduced  to  several  women 
of  fashion,  Lady  Ore  we,  &c.,  who  were  very  anxious 
to  see  the  great  Grecian.  How  do  you  suppose  he 
entertained  them  ?  Chiefly  by  reciting  an  immense 
quantity  of  old  forgotten  Yauxhall  songs.  He  was 
far  from  sober,  and  at  last  talked  so  oddly,  that  they 
all  retired  from  him,  except  Lady  Crewe,  who  boldly 
kept  her  ground.  I  recollect  her  saying  to  him, 
"Mr.  Porson,  that  joke  you  have  borrowed  from 
Joe  Miller,"  and  his  rather  angry  reply,  "  Madam, 
it  is  not  in  Joe  Miller ;  you  will  not  find  it  either  in 
the  preface  or  in  the  body  of  that  work,  no,  nor  in 
the  index."  I  brought  him  home  as  far  as  Picca 
dilly,  where,  I  am  sorry  to  add,  I  left  him  sick  in 
the  middle  of  the  street. 

When  any  one  told  Porson  that  he  intended  to 
publish  a  book,  Porson  would  say,  "  Remember  that 
two  parties  must  agree  on  that  point, — you  and  the 
reader." 

I  asked  him  what  time  it  would  take  him  to 
translate  The  Iliad  literally  and  correctly  into  Eng 
lish  prose.  He  answered,  "  At  least  ten  years." 

He  used  to  say  that  something  may  be  pleaded 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  219 

as  a  sort  of  excuse  for  the  wickedness  of  the  worst 
characters  in  Shakespeare.  For  instance,  lago  is 
tortured  by  suspicions  that  Othello  has  been  too  in 
timate  with  his  wife  ;  Richard  the  Third,  the  mur 
derer  of  children,  has  been  bitterly  taunted  by  one 
of  the  young  princes,  &c. 

"  If  I  had  a  carriage,"  said  Porson,  "  and  if  I 
saw  a  well-dressed  person  on  the  road,  I  would  al 
ways  invite  him  in,  and  learn  of  him  what  I  could." 
Such  was  his  love  of  knowledge  ! 

He  was  fond  of  repeating  these  lines,  and  wrote 
them  out  for  me  ; 

"  What  *  fools  are  mankind, 
And  how  strangely  inclin'd, 
To  come  from  all  places 
With  horses  and  chaises, 
By  day  and  by  dark, 
To  the  falls  of  Lanark ! 
For,  good  people,  after  all, 
What  is  a  water-fall  ? 
It  comes  roaring  and  grumbling, 
And  leaping  and  tumbling, 
And  hopping  and  skipping, 
And  foaming  and  dripping ; 

*  From  Garnett's  Tour  in  Scotland,  vol.  ii.  227.     They  were  found 
in  an  album  kept  at  the  inn  at  Lanark. — ED. 


220  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

And  struggling  and  toiling, 
And  bubbling  and  boiling ; 
And  beating  and  jumping,  ' 
And  bellowing  and  thumping. 
I  have  much  more  to  say  upon 
Both  Linn  and  Bon  niton ; 
But  the  trunks  are  tied  on, 
And  I  must  be  gone." 

These  lines  evidently  suggested  to  Southey  his 
playful  verses  on  The  Cataract  of  Lodore. 


Oh,  the  exquisite  English  in  many  parts  of  our 
version  of  the  Scriptures  !  I  sometimes  think  that 
the  translators,  as  well  as  the  original  writers,  must 
have  been  inspired. 


Lord  Seaforth,  who  was  born  deaf  and  dumb, 
was  to  dine  one  day  with  Lord  Melville.  Just  be 
fore  the  time  of  the  company's  arrival,  Lady  Melville 
sent  into  the  drawing-room  a  lady  of  her  acquaint 
ance,  who  could  talk  with  her  fingers  to  dumb  peo 
ple,  that  she  might  receive  Lord  Seaforth.  Pre 
sently  Lord  Guilford  entered  the  room  ;  and  the 
lady,  taking  him  for  Lord  Seaforth,  began  to  ply  her 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  221 

fingers  very  nimbly :  Lord  Guilford  did  the  same  ; 
and  they  had  been  carrying  on  a  conversation  in  this 
manner  for  about  ten  minutes,  when  Lady  Melville 
joined  them.  Her  female  friend  immediately  said, 
"  Well,  I  have  been  talking  away  to  this  dumb  man." 
— "  Dumb  !  "  cried  Lord  Guilford  ;  "  bless  me,  I 
thought  you  were  dumb." — I  told  this  story  (which 
is  perfectly  true)  to  Matthews ;  and  he  said  that  he 
could  make  excellent  use  of  it  at  one  of  his  evening- 
entertainments  :  but  I  know  not  if  he  ever  did. 


I  can  discover  from  a  poet's  versification  whether 
or  not  he  has  an  ear  for  music.  Shakespeare's,  Mil 
ton's,  Dryden's,  and  Gray's  prove  to  me  that  they 
had  it ;  Pope's  that  he  had  it  not : — indeed,  with 
respect  to  Shakespeare,  the  passage  in  The  Mer 
chant  of  Venice  *  would  be  enough  to  settle  the 
question.  To  instance  poets  of  the  present  day  ; — 
from  Bowles's  and  Moore's  versification,  I  should 

*  "  The  man  that  hath  no  music  in  himself, 

Nor  is  not  mov'd  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 

Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils ; 

The  motions  of  his  spirit  are  dull  as  night, 

And  his  affections  dark  as  Erehus : 

Let  no  such  man  he  trusted."         Act  v.  sc.  1. — ED. 


222  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

know  that  they  had  fine  ears  for  music ;  from 
Southey's,  "Wordsworth's,  and  Byron's,  that  they 
had  no  ears  for  it. 


To  any  one  who  has  reached  a  very  advanced 
age,  a  walk  through  the  streets>»of  London  is  like  a 
walk  in  a  cemetery.  How  many  houses  do  I  pass, 
now  inhabited  by  strangers,  in  which  I  used  to 
spend  such  happy  hours  with  those  who  have  long 
been  dead  and  gone  ! 


A  friend  of  mine  in  Portland  Place  has  a  wife 
who  inflicts  upon  him  every  season  two  or  three  im 
mense  evening  parties.  At  one  of  those  parties  he 
was  standing  in  a  very  forlorn  condition,  leaning 
against  the  chimney-piece,  when  a  gentleman,  com 
ing  up  to  him,  said,  "  Sir,  as  neither  of  us  is  ac 
quainted  with  any  of  the  people  here,  I  think  we 
had  best  go  home." 


One  of  the  books  which  I  never  tire  reading  is 
Mtmoires  sur  la  vie  de  Jean  Racine,  by  his  son. 


TAllUiXl'AUv    OK    HAMUKI,    KOUKKM. 

\Y  I i«-ii  I  was  h\  in"  in  (he  Trmplr,  !hr  rhiiniH  \ 
of  ouuof  i\\y  noitfhlmurH  woru  to  bonwopl.     I'p  wtMil. 
two  l>"\     ;   and  al  lln-  md  nf  an  hour  Ihcy  had   not 
eoimi  down  u^niii.     Two  olhor  hoyn  wcro  tliiMi  HCII! 
up  ;  niul  up  tliny  romaim-d  MJHO.     'I'ln-  m.-i  I.  i  ,.|  !h<- 

1)OJH  WUH    HOW    HUllllMOlU'd,   who,  oil     IliH    HITivill,  OX- 

claimed,  "()h,!ho  idlti  littlo  niKCJllH !   t.ln\y  an-  play 
Ing  ftt  ftll-foun  OH  th0  tOD  Of  Id*'  chiunu^y.11      And, 
to  hci  Kiirt*,  l.liuro  lln\y  woro,  Irumpiii^;  it,  HWH}'  ul  ih«  n 

<  i  '        I  i ,upp<»Ho  tij*(t<{< '.v  wiu'n  l.IuMr  !nv<MirjUi  raid 


I  low  lit  I  lo  (  h'owo  in  Known  ^  cwtin  l.o  PJM'HOIIM  who 
rt^  fond  of  poolry  I  Y«il.  Inn  LnncHtlon,  Hill  in  full 
l  nohln  jMiHHiitft'H;  f«ir  iiihilaiicc,  thai  alxuil  tin-  ll.il 


|"H«o  how  Lhu  nun,  h«r«  dnudiul,  itl'iir  off 
ToiirH  down  MM  ^oldon  mdiuii^u  of  liln  h  •!,! 
Upon  Mut  onridgod  HOII  ;   wliiM'o  Mi«  bliu-Jt  Hliip 
Hiiiln  on  UK  |ilm:-.|ilior-WMiiiing  WIIV^H.    Ho  I'nir, 

I'.nl.  lal   •  I;    H.iH.  i  in,-,    WttH    yoll      nil  ,,  ,    <-;ilin, 

1  Ho  vary  IIUJ«i  known,  that   I   givn  itt  Cull    liuigl-h  llioa«    pitn- 

of   In.-    JMNIIII.I   whirh    Mr.    ItiiffttrH    |iiurtlitulurly   Hi 
Ka 


224  RECOLLECTIONS   OF  THE 

When  forth  for  India  sail'd,  in  evil  time, 
That  vessel,  whose  disastrous  fate,  when  told, 
Fill'd  every  breast  with  horror,  and  each  eye 
With  piteous  tears,  so  cruel  was  the  loss. 
Methinks  I  see  her,  as,  by  the  wintry  storm 
Shatter'd  and  driven  along  past  yonder  isle, 
She  strove,  her  latest  hope,  by  strength  or  art, 
To  gain  the  port  within  it,  or  at  worst 
To  shun  that  harbourless  and  hollow  coast 
From  Portland  eastward  to  the  promontory 
Where  still  St.  Alban's  high-built  chapel  stands. 
But  art  nor  strength  avail  her — on  she  drives, 
In  storm  and  darkness,  to  the  fatal  coast ; 
And  there  'mong  rocks  and  high  o'er-hanging  cliffs 
Dash'd  piteously,  with  all  her  precious  freight 
Was  lost,  by  Neptune's  wild  and  foamy  jaws 
Swallow'd  up  quick !     The  richliest-laden  ship 
Of  spicy  Ternate,  or  that  annual  sent 
To  the  Philippines  o'er  the  southern  main 
From  Acapulco,  carrying  massy  gold, 
Were  poor  to  this ; — freighted  with  hopeful  Youth, 
And  Beauty,  and  high  Courage  undismay'd 
By  mortal  terrors,  and  paternal  Love 
Strong,  and  unconquerable  even  in  death — 
Alas,  they  perish'd  all,  all  in  one  hour  1 "] 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  225 

The  conclusion  of  the  poem  is  charming  : 

["  But  ill  accords  my  verse  with  the  delights 
Of  this  gay  month  : — and  see,  the  villagers 
Assembling  jocund  in  their  hest  attire, 
To  grace  this  genial  morn.     Now  I  descend 
To  join  the  worldly  crowd  ;  perchance  to  talk, 
To  think,  to  act,  as  they  :  then  all  these  thoughts, 
That  lift  th'  expanded  heart  ahove  this  spot 
To  heavenly  musing,  these  shall  pass  away 
(Even  as  this  goodly  prospect  from  my  view), 
Hidden  by  near  and  earthly-rooted  cares. 
So  passeth  human  life — our  better  mind 
Is  as  a  Sunday's  garment,  then  put  on 
When  we  have  nought  to  do ;  but  at  our  work 
We  wear  a  worse  for  thrift.     Of  this  enough : 
To-morrow  for  severer  thought ;  but  now 
To  breakfast,  and  keep  festival  to-day."  ] 

Of  Crowe's  Verses  intended  to  have  been  spoken 
in  the  Theatre  at  Oxford  on  the  Installation  of  the, 
Duke  of  Portland  as  Chancellor  of  the  University r, 
a  portion  is  very  grand  ; 

["  If  the  stroke  of  war 

Fell  certain  on  the  guilty  head,  none  else, 
10* 


226  RECOLLECTIONS   OF  THE 

If  they  that  make  the  cause  might  taste  th'  effect, 
And  drink,  themselves,  the  bitter  cup  they  mix, 
Then  might  the  bard  (though  child  of  peace)  delight 
To  twine  fresh  wreaths  around  the  conqueror's  brow  ; 
Or  haply  strike  his  high-ton'd  harp,  to  swell 
The  trumpet's  martial  sound,  and  bid  them  on 

Whom  justice  arms  for  vengeance :  but,  alas ! 

p 

That  undistinguishing  and  deathful  storm 
Beats  heaviest  on  th'  exposed  innocent, 
And  they  that  stir  its  fury,  while  it  raves, 
Stand  at  safe  distance,  send  their  mandate  forth 
Unto  the  mortal  ministers  that  wait 
To  do  their  bidding. — Oh,  who  then  regards 
The  widow's  tears,  the  friendless  orphan's  cry, 
And  Famine,  and  the  ghastly  train  of  woes 
That  follow  at  the  dogged  heels  of  War  ? 
They,  in  the  pomp  and  pride  of  victory 
Rejoicing,  o'er  the  desolated  earth, 
As  at  an  altar  wet  with  human  blood, 
And  naming  with  the  fire  of  cities  burnt, 
Sing  their  mad  hymns  of  triumph ;  hymns  to  God, 
O'er  the  destruction  of  his  gracious  works ! 
Hymns  to  the  Father,  o'er  his  slaughter'd  sons  ! "  ] 

Crowe  was  an  intimate  friend  of  mine. — When  I  was 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   EOGEKS.  227 

travelling  in  Italy,  I  made  two  authors  my  constant 
study  for  versification, — Milton  and  Crowe. 


Most  people  are  ever  on  the  watch  to  find  fault 
with  their  children,  and  are  afraid  of  praising  them 
for  fear  of  spoiling  them.  Now,  I  am  sure  that  no 
thing  has  a  better  effect  on  children  than  praise.  I 
had  a  proof  of  this  in  Moore's  daughter :  he  used 
always  to  be  saying  to  her,  "What  a  good  little 
girl !  "  and  she  continued  to  grow  more  and  more 
good,  till  she  became  too  good  for  this  world  and 
died. 


Did  ever  poet,  dramatist,  or  novel-writer,  devise 
a  more  effective  incident  than  the  falling  of  the  rug 
in  Molly  Seagrim's  bedroom  ?  *  Can  any  thing  be 
more  happily  ludicrous,  when  we  consider  how  the 
actors  in  that  scene  are  connected  with  each  other  ? 
It  probably  suggested  to  Sheridan  the  falling  of  the 
screen  in  The  School  for  Scandal.\ 


*  See  Fielding's  Tom  Jones,  b.  v.  ch.  5. — ED. 
f  No  doubt  it  did ;  as  the  Jones  and  Blifil  of  the  same  novel  sug 
gested  to  him  Charles  and  Joseph  Surface. — ED. 


228  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

Neither  Moore  nor  myself  had  ever  seen  Byron 
when  it  was  settled  that  he  should  dine  at  my  house 
to  meet  Moore ;  nor  was  he  known  by  sight  to 
Campbell,  who,  happening  to  call  upon  me  that 
morning,  consented  to  join  the  party.  I  thought  it 
best  that  I  alone  should  be  in  the  drawing-room  when 
Byron  entered  it ;  and  Moore  and  Campbell  ac 
cordingly  withdrew.  Soon  after  his  arrival,  they 
returned ;  and  I  introduced  them  to  him  severally, 
naming  them  as  Adam  named  the  beasts.  When  we 
sat  down  to  dinner,  I  asked  Byron  if  he  would  take 
soup  ?  " No  ;  he  never  took  soup." — Would  he  take 
some  fish  ?  "  No  ;  he  never  took  fish." — Presently 
I  asked  him  if  he  would  eat  some  mutton  ?  "No; 
he  never  ate  mutton." — I  then  asked  him  if  he  would 
take  a  glass  of  wine  ?  "No;  he  never  tasted  wine." 
—It  was  now  necessary  to  inquire  what  he  did  eat 
and  drink ;  and  the  answer  was,  "  Nothing  but  hard 
biscuits  and  soda-water."  Unfortunately,  neither 
hard  biscuits  nor  soda-water  were  at  hand  ;  and  he 
dined  upon  potatoes  bruised  down  on  his  plate  and 
drenched  with  vinegar. — My  guests  stayed  till  very 
late,  discussing  the  merits  of  "Walter  Scott  and 
Joanna  Baillie. — Some  days  after,  meeting  Hob- 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  229 

house,  I  said  to  him,  "  How  long  will  Lord  Byron 
persevere  in  his  present  diet?  "  He  replied,  "  Just 
as  long  as  you  continue  to  notice  it." — I  did  not 
then  know,  what  I  now  know  to  be  a  fact,  —that 
Byron,  after  leaving  my  house,  had  gone  to  a  Club  in 
St.  James's  Street,  and  eaten  a  hearty  meat-supper. 

Byron  sent  me  Childe  Harold  in  the  printed 
sheets  before  it  was  published ;  and  I  read  it  to 
my  sister.  "This,"  I  said,  "in  spite  of  all  its 
beauty,  will  never  please  the  public  :  they  will  dis 
like  the  querulous  repining  tone  that  pervades  it, 
and  the  dissolute  character  of  the  hero."  But  I 
quickly  found  that  I  was  mistaken.  The  genius 
which  the  poem  exhibited,  the  youth,  the  rank  of 
the  author,  his  romantic  wanderings  in  Greece, — 
these  combined  to  make  the  world  stark  mad  about 
Childe  Harold  and  Byron.  I  knew  two  old  maids 
in  Buckinghamshire  who  used  to  cry  over  the  pas 
sage  about  Harold's  "laughing  dames"  that  "long 
had  fed  his  youthful  appetite,"  *  &c. 

After  Byron  had  become  the  rage,  I  was  fre 
quently  amused  at  the  manoeuvres  of  certain  noble 
ladies  to  get  acquainted  with  him  by  means  of  me : 

*  Canto  i.  st.  11. — ED. 


230  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

for  instance,  I  would  receive  a  note  from  Lady 

requesting  the  pleasure  of  my  company  on  a  par 
ticular  evening,  with  a  postscript,  "  Pray,  could  you 
not  contrive  to  bring  Lord  Byron  with  you? " — Once, 
at  a  great  party  given  by  Lady  Jersey,  Mrs.  Sheri 
dan  ran  up  to  me  and  said,  "  Do,  as  a  favour,  try  if 
you  can  place  Lord  Byron  beside  me  at  supper." 

Byron  had  prodigious  facility  of  composition. 
He  was  fond  of  suppers ;  and  he  used  often  to  sup 
at  my  house  and  eat  heartily  (for  he  had  then  given 
up  the  hard  biscuit  and  soda-water  diet)  :  after  going 
home,  he  would  throw  off  sixty  or  eighty  verses, 
which  he  would  send  to  press  next  morning.'5 

He  one  evening  took  me  to  the  green-room  of 
Drury  Lane  Theatre,  where  I  was  much  entertained. 
When  the  play  began,  I  went  round  to  the  front  of 
the  house,  and  desired  the  box-keeper  to  show  me 
into  Lord  Byron's  box.  I  had  been  there  about  a 
minute,  thinking  myself  quite  alone,  when  suddenly 
Byron  and  Miss  Boyce  (the  actress)  emerged  from 
a  dark  corner. 

In  those  days  at  least,  Byron  had  no  readiness  of 
reply  in  conversation.  If  you  happened  to  let  fall 
any  observation  which  offended  him,  he  would  say 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL    ROGERS.  231 

nothing  at  the  time  ;  but  the  offence  would  lie  rank 
ling  in  his  mind  ;  and  perhaps  a  fortnight  after,  he 
would  suddenly  come  out  with  some  very  cutting 
remarks  upon  you,  giving  them  as  his  deliberate 
opinions,  the  results  of  his  experience  of  your  cha 
racter. 

Several  women  were  in  love  with  Byron,  but  none 
so  violently  as  Lady  Caroline  Lamb.  She  absolutely 
besieged  him.  He  showed  me  the  first  letter  he  re 
ceived  from  her  ;  in  which  she  assured  him  that,  if 
he  was  in  any  want  of  money,  "  all  her  jewels  were 
at  his  service."  They  frequently  had  quarrels ;  and 
more  than  once,  on  coming  home,  I  have  found  Lady 
C.  walking  in  the  garden,*  and  waiting  for  me,  to 
beg  that  I  would  reconcile  them. — When  she  met 
Byron,  at  a  party,  she  would  always,  if  possible,  re 
turn  home  from  it  in  his  carriage,  and  accompanied 
by  him :  I  recollect  particularly  their  returning  to 
town  together  from  Holland  House. — But  such  was 
the  insanity  of  her  passion  for  Byron,  that  sometimes, 
when  not  invited  to  a  party  where  he  was  to  be,  she 
would  wait  for  him  in  the  street  till  it  was  over ! 
One  night,  after  a  great  party  at  Devonshire  House, 

*  Behind  Mr.  Rogers's  house,  in  St.  James's  Place. — ED. 


232  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

to  which  Lady  Caroline  had  not  been  invited,  I  saw 
her, — yes,  saw  her, — talking  to  Byron,  with  half  of 
her  body  thrust  into  the  carriage  which  he  had  just 
entered.  In  spite  of  all  this  absurdity,  my  firm  be 
lief  is  that  there  was  nothing  criminal  between  them. 

Byron  at  last  was  sick  of  her.  When  their  inti 
macy  was  at  an  end,  and  while  she  was  living  in  the 
country,  she  burned,  very  solemnly,  on  a  sort  of 
funeral  pile,  transcripts  of  all  the  letters  which  she 
had  received  from  Byron,  and  a  copy  of  a  miniature 
(his  portrait)  which  he  had  presented  to  her ;  se 
veral  girls  from  the  neighbourhood,  whom  she  had 
dressed  in  white  garments,  dancing  round  the  pile, 
and  singing  a  song  which  she  had  written  for  the 
occasion,  "Burn,  fire,  burn,"  &c. — She  was  mad; 
and  her  family  allowed  her  to  do  whatever  she  chose. 

Latterly,  I  believe,  Byron  never  dined  with  Lady 
B. ;  for  it  was  one  of  his  fancies  (or  affectations)  that 
"  he  could  not  endure  to  see  women  eat."  I  recollect 
that  he  once  refused  to  meet  Madame  de  Stae'l  at 
my  house  at  dinner^  but  came  in  the  evening  :  and 
when  I  have  asked  him  to  dinner  without  mention 
ing  what  company  I  was  to  have,  he  would  write  me 
a  note  to  inquire  "if  I  had  invited  any  women." 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  233 

"Wilkes's  daughter  may  have  had  a  right  to  burn 
her  father's  Memoirs  ;  *  but  Moore,  I  conceive,  was 
not  justified  in  giving  his  consent  to  the  burning  of 
Byron's  :  when  Byron  told  him  that  he  might  "  do 
whatever  he  pleased  with  them,"  Byron  certainly 
never  contemplated  their  being  burned.  If  Moore 
had  made  me  his  confidant  in  the  business,  I  should 
have  protested  warmly  against  the  destruction  of  the 
Memoirs  :  but  he  chose  Luttrell,  probably  because 
he  thought  him  the  more  fashionable  man ;  and  Lut 
trell,  who  cared  nothing  about  the  matter,  readily 
voted  that  they  should  be  put  into  the  fire. — There 
were,  I  understand,  some  gross  things  in  that  manu 
script  ;  but  I  read  only  a  portion  of  it,  and  did  not 
light  upon  them.  I  remember  that  it  contained  this 
anecdote  : — on  his  marriage-night,  Byron  suddenly 
started  out  of  his  first  sleep  :  a  taper,  which  burned 
in  the  room,  was  casting  a  ruddy  glare  through  the 
crim&on  curtains  of  the  bed ;  and  he  could  not  help 
exclaiming,  in  a  voice  so  loud  that  he  wakened  Lady 
B.,  « Good. God,  I  am  surely  in  hell!  " 

*  "  Wilkes  said  to  me,  '  I  have  written  my  Memoirs,  and  they  are 
to  be  published  by  Peter  Elmsley,  after  my  ascension.''  They  -were 
burnt  by  his  daughter."  Mr.  MALTBY  (see  notice  prefixed  to  the 
Porsoniana  in  this  volume). — ED. 


234:  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

My  latest  intercourse  with  Byron  was  in  Italy. 
"We  travelled  some  time  together ;  and,  if  there  was 
any  scenery  particularly  well  worth  seeing,  he  gene 
rally  contrived  that  we  should  pass  through  it  in  the 
dark. 

As  we  were  crossing  the  Apennines,  he  told  me 
that  he  had  left  an  order  in  his  will  that  Allegra,  the 
child  who  soon  after  died,  his  daughter  by  Miss  C., 
should  never  be  taught  the  English  language. — You 
know  that  Allegra  was  buried  at  Harrow :  but  pro 
bably  you  have  not  heard  that  the  body  was  sent 
over  to  England  in  two  packages,  that  no  one  might 
suspect  what  it  was. 

About  the  same  time  he  said, — being  at  last 
assured  that  the  celebrated  critique  on  his  early 
poems  in  The  Edinburgh  Review  was  written  by 
Lord  Brougham, — "  If  I  ever  return  to  England, 
Brougham  shall  hear  from  me."  He  added,  "  That 
critique  cost  me  three  bottles  of  claret "  (to  raise  his 
spirits  after  reading  it).* 

•*  Wordsworth  was  spending  an  evening  at  Charles  Lamb's,  when 
he  first  saw  the  said  critique,  which  had  just  appeared.  He  read  it 
through,  and  remarked  that  "  though  Byron's  verses  were  probably 
poor  enough,  yet  such  an  attack  was  abominable, — that  a  young  no 
bleman,  who  took  to  poetry,  deserved  to  be  encouraged,  not  ridiculed." 
Perhaps  if  this  had  been  made  known  to  Byron,  he  would  not  have 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  235 

One  day,  during  dinner,  at  Pisa,*  when  Shelley 
and  Trelawney  were  with  us,  Byron  chose  to  run 
down  Shakespeare  (for  whom  he,  like  Sheridan, 
either  had,  or  pretended  to  have,  little  admiration). 
I  said  nothing.  But  Shelley  immediately  took  up 
the  defence  of  the  great  poet,  and  conducted  it  in 
his  usual  meek  yet  resolute  manner,  unmoved  by 

spoken  of  Wordsworth  as  he  has  done. — Many  years  ago  Wordsworth 
gave  me  the  following  account,  which  I  noted  down  at  the  time. 
"  Lord  Byron's  hatred  towards  me  originated  thus.  There  was  a  wo 
man  in  distressed  circumstances  at  Bristol,  who  wrote  a  volume  of 
poems,  which  she  wished  to  publish  and  dedicate  to  me.  She  had 
formed  an  idea  that,  if  she  became  a  poetess,  her  fortune  would  be 
made.  I  endeavoured  to  dissuade  her  from  indulging  such  vain  ex 
pectations,  and  advised  her  to  turn  her  attention  to  something  else.  I 
represented  to  her  how  little  chance  there  was  that  her  poems,  though 
really  evincing  a  good  deal  of  talent,  would  make  any  impression  on 
the  public ;  and  I  observed  that,  in  our  day,  two  persons  only  (whom 
I  did  not  name)  had  succeeded  in  making  money  by  their  poetry,  add 
ing  that  in  the  writings  of  the  one  (Sir  Walter  Scott)  there  was'  little 
poetic  feeling,  and  that  in  those  of  the  other  (Lord  Byron)  it  was  per 
verted.  Mr.  Rogers  told  me  that  when  he  was  travelling  with  Lord 
Byron  in  Italy,  his  lordship  confessed  that  the  hatred  he  bore  me 
arose  from  the  remark  about  his  poetry  which  I  had  made  to  that  wo 
man,  and  which  some  good-natured  friend  had  repeated  to  him." — 
ED. 

*  In  Moore's  Life  of  Byron  no  mention  is  made  of  Mr.  Rogers 
having  been  Byron's  guest  at  Pisa. — In  Medwin's  Angler  in  Wales, 
i.  25,  is  an  account, — exaggerated  perhaps,  but  doubtless  substan 
tially  true, — of  Byron's  wicked  behaviour  to  Mr.  Rogers  at  the  Casa 
Lanfranchi. — ED. 


KECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

the  rude  things  with  which  Byron  interrupted  him, — 
"  Oh,  that's  very  well  for  an  atheist,  &c.  (Before 
meeting  Shelley  in  Italy,  I  had  seen  him  only  once. 
It  was  at  my  own  house  in  St.  James's  Place,  where 
he  called  upon  me, — introducing  himself, — to  re 
quest  the  loan  of  some  money  which  he  wished  to 
present  to  Leigh  Hunt ;  and  he  offered  me  a  bond 
for  it.  Having  numerous  claims  upon  me  at  that 
time,  I  was  obliged  to  refuse  the  loan.  Both  in 
appearance  and  in  manners  Shelley  was  the  perfect 
gentleman.) — That  same  day,  after  dinner,  I  walked 
in  the  garden  with  Byron.  At  the  window  of  a 
neighbouring  house  was  a  young  w^oman  holding  a 
child  in  her  arms.  Byron  nodded  to  her  with  a 
smile,  and  then,  turning  to  me,  said,  "  That  child  is 
mine."  In  the  evening,  we  (i.  e.  Byron,  Shelley, 
Trelawney,  and  I)  rode  out  from  Pisa  to  a  farm  (a 
podere) ;  and  there  a  pistol  was  put  into  my  hand 
for  shooting  at  a  mark  (a  favourite  amusement  of 
Byron) ;  but  I  declined  trying  my  skill  with  it. 
The  farm-keeper's  daughter  was  very  pretty,  and 
had  her  arms  covered  with  bracelets,  the  gift  of 
Byron,  who  did  not  fail  to  let  me  know  that  she  was 
one  of  his  many  loves. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  237 

I  went  with  him  to  see  the  Campo  Santo  at  Pisa. 
It  was  shown  to  us  by  a  man  who  had  two  hand 
some  daughters.  Byron  told  me  that  he  had  in 
vain  paid  his  addresses  to  the  elder  daughter,  but 
that  he  was  on  the  most  intimate  terms  with  the 
other.  Probably  there  was  not  one  syllable  of  truth 
in  all  this ;  for  he  always  had  the  weakness  of  wish 
ing  to  be  thought  much  worse  than  he  really  was. 

Byron,  like  Sir  Walter  Scott,*  was  without  any 
feeling  for  the  fine  arts.  He  accompanied  me  to 
the  Pitti  Palace  at  Florence;  but  soon  growing 
tired  of  looking  at  the  pictures,  he  sat  down  in  a 
corner;  and  when  I  called  out  to  him,  "What  a 
noble  Andrea  del  Sarto!"  the  only  answer  I  re 
ceived  was  his  muttering  a  passage  from  The  Vicar 
of  Wakefield) — "  Upon  asking  how  he  had  been 
taught  the  art  of  a  cognoscento  so  very  suddenly," 
&c.f  (When  he  and  Hobhouse  were  standing  be- 

*  "  During  Scott's  first  visit  to  Paris,  I  walked  with  him  (and 
Richard  Sharp)  through  the  Louvre,  and  pointed  out  for  his  particular 
notice  the  St.  Jerome  of  Domenichino,  and  some  other  chefs-d'oeuvre. 
Scott  merely  glanced  at  them,  and  passed  on,  saying,  '  I  really  have 
not  time  to  examine  them.'  "  Mr.  MALTBY  (see  notice  prefixed  to 
the  Porsoniana  in  this  volume).  —ED. 

f  "  Upon  asking  how  he  had  heen  taught  the  art  of  a  cognoscento 
so  very  suddenly,  he  assured  me  that  nothing  was  more  easy.  The 


238  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

fore  the  Parthenon,  the  latter  said,  "  Well,  this  is 
surely  very  grand."  Byron  replied,  "  Very  like  the 
Mansion-House." ) 

At  this  time  we  generally  had  a  regular  quarrel 
every  night ;  and  he  would  abuse  me  through  thick 
and  thin,  raking  up  all  the  stories  he  had  heard 
which  he  thought  most  likely  to  mortify  me, — how 
I  had  behaved  with  great  cruelty  to  Murphy,  re 
fusing  to  assist  him  in  his  distress,  &c.  &c.  But  next 
morning  he  would  shake  me  kindly  by  both  hands ; 
and  we  were  excellent  friends  again. 

When  I  parted  from  him  in  Italy  (never  to  meet 
him  more),  a  good  many  persons  were  looking  on, 
anxious  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  "famous  lord." 

Campbell  used  to  say  that  the  lines  which  first 
convinced  him  that  Byron  was  a  true  poet  were 
these ; 

"  Yet  are  thy  skies  as  blue,  thy  crags  as  wild ; 
Sweet  are  thy  groves,  and  verdant  are  thy  fields, 


whole  secret  consisted  in  a  strict  adherence  to  two  rules ;  the  one, 
always  to  observe  the  picture  might  have  been  better  if  the  painter 
had  taken  more  pains ;  and  the  other,  to  praise  the  works  of  Pietro 
Perugino."  Chap.  xx.  Compare  Byron's  own  account  of  this  visit  to 
the  Pitti  Palace  in  his  Life  by  Moore,  vol.  v.  279. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  23$ 

Thine  olive  ripe  as  when  Minerva  smil'd, 
And  still  his  honied  wealth  Hymettus  yields ; 
There  the  blithe  bee  his  fragrant  fortress  builds, 
The  free-born  wanderer  of  thy  mountain  air ; 
Apollo  still  thy  long,  long  summer  gilds, 
Still  in  his  beam  Mendeli's  marbles  glare ; 
Art,  Glory,  Freedom  fail,  but  Nature  still  is  fair. 

Where'er  we  tread,  'tis  haunted,  holy  ground, 
No  earth  of  thine  is  lost  in  vulgar  mould, 
But  one  vast  realm  of  wonder  spreads  around, 
And  all  the  Muse's  tales  seem  truly  told, 
Till  the  sense  aches  with  gazing  to  behold 
The  scenes  our  earliest  dreams  have  dwelt  upon : 
Each  hill  and  dale,  each  deepening  glen  and  wold 
Defies  the  power  which  crush'd  thy  temples  gone : 
Age  shakes  Athene's  tower,  but  spares  gray  Marathon."  * 

For  my  own  part,  I  think  that  this  passage  is 
perhaps  the  best  that  Byron  ever  wrote ; 

"  To  sit  on  rocks,  to  muse  o'er  flood  and  fell, 
To  slowly  trace  the  forest's  shady  scene, 
Where  things  that  own  not  man's  dominion  dwell, 
And  mortal  foot  hath  ne'er  or  rarely  been ; 

*  Childe  Harold,  c.  ii.  st.  87,  88.— ED. 


24:0  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

To  climb  the  trackless  mountain  all  unseen. 
With  the  wild  flock  that  never  needs  a  fold ; 
Alone  o'er  steeps  and  foaming  falls  to  lean  ; 
This  is  not  solitude ;  'tis  but  to  hold 
Converse  with  Nature's  charms,  and  view  her  stores 
unroll'd. 

But  midst  the  crowd,  the  hum,  the  shock  of  men, 
To  hear,  to  see,  to  feel,  and  to  possess, 
And  roam  along,  the  world's  tir'd  denizen, 
With  none  who  bless  us,  none  whom  we  can  bless  ; 
Minions  of  splendour  shrinking  from  distress ! 
None  that,  with  kindred  consciousness  endued, 
If  we  were  not,  would  seem  to  smile  the  less, 
Of  all  that  flatter'd,  follow'd,  sought,  and  sued; 
This  is  to  be  alone ;  this,  this  is  solitude."  * 

The  lines  in  the  third  canto  of  Childe  Harold 
about  the  ball  given  by  the  Duchess  of  Richmond 
at  Brussels,  the  night  before  the  battle  of  "Waterloo, 
&c.,  are  very  striking.  The  Duchess  told  me  that 
she  had  a  list  of  her  company,  and  that  after  the 
battle,  she  added  "  dead"  to  the  names  of  those  who 
had  fallen, — the  number  being  fearful. 

*  Childe  Harold,  c.  ii.  st.  25,  26.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  241 

Mrs.  Barbauld  once  observed  to  me  that  she 
thought  Byron  wrote  best  when  he  wrote  about  the 
sea  or  swimming. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  incorrect  and  hasty  writ 
ing  in  Byron's  works ;  but  it  is  overlooked  in  this 
age  of  hasty  readers.  For  instance, 

"  I  stood  in  Venice,  on  the  Bridge  of  Sighs, 
A  palace  and  a  prison  on  each  hand."  * 

He  meant  to  say,  that  on  one  hand  was  a  palace,  on 
the  other  a  prison. — And  what  think  you  of— 

"  And  dashest  him  again  to  earth : — there  let  him  lay  "?f 


Mr.  's  house,  the ,  is  very  splendid ; 

it  contains  a  quantity  of  or-molu.     Now,  I  like  to 

*  Childe  Harold,  c.  iv.  st.  1.— ED. 

•f  Id.  c.  iv.  st.  180. — A  lady  resident  in  Aberdeen  told  me  that 
she  used  to  sit  in  a  pew  of  St.  Paul's  Chapel  in  that  town,  next  to 
Mrs,  Byron's;  and  that  one  Sunday  she  observed  the  poet  (then 
about  seven  or  eight  years  old)  amusing  himself  by  disturbing  his 
mother's  devotions :  he  every  now  and  then  gently  pricked  with 
a  pin  the  large  round  arms  of  Mrs.  Byron,  which  were  covered 
with  white  kid  gloves. — Professor  Stuart,  of  the  Marischal  College, 
Aberdeen,  mentioned  to  me  the  following  proof  of  Lord  Byron's 
fondness  for  his  mother.  Georgy,  and  some  other  little  hoys,  were 
one  day  allowed,  much  to  their  delight,  to  assist  at  'a  gathering  of 
apples  in  the  Professor's  garden,  and  were  rewarded  for  their  labour 
11 


242  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

have  a  kettle  in  my  bed-room,  to  heat  a  little  water 

if  necessary  :  but  I  can't  get  a  kettle  at  the , 

though  there  is  a  quantity  of  or-molu.     Lady 

says,  that  when  she  is  at  the  • ,  she  is  obliged  to 

have  her  clothes  unpacked  three  times  a  day ;  for 
there  are  no  chests-of-drawers,  though  there  is  a 
quantity  of  or-molu. 


The  letters  I  receive  from  people,  of  both  sexes 
(people  whom  I  never  heard  of),  asking  me  for 
money,  either  as  a  gift  or  as  a  loan,  are  really  innu 
merable.  Here's  one*  from  a  student  at  Durham, 

with  some  of  the  fruit.  Georgy,  having  received  his  portion  of  apples, 
immediately  disappeared  ;  and,  on  his  return,  after  half-an-hour's 
absence,  to  the  inquiry  where  he  had  been,  he  replied  that  he  had  been 
"  carrying  some  apples  to  his  poor  dear  mother." 

At  the  house  of  the  Rev.  W.  Harness  I  remember  hearing  Moore 
remark,  that  he  thought  the  natural  bent  of  Byron's  genius  was  to 
satirical  and  burlesque  poetry ;  on  which  Mr.  Harness  related  what 
follows.  When  Byron  was  at  Harrow,  he,  one  day,  seeing  a  young 
acquaintance  at  a  short  distance  who  was  a  violent  admirer  of  Buona 
parte,  roared  out  this  extemporaneous  couplet — 

"  Bold  Robert  Speer  was  Sony's  bad  precursor ; 
Bob  was  a  bloody  dog,  but  BonaparCs  a  worser." 

Moore  immediately  wrote  the  lines  down,  with  the  intention  of  insert 
ing  them  in  his  Life  of  Byron,  which  he  was  then  preparing ;  but  they 
do  not  appear  in  that  work. — ED. 
*  I  read  the  letter. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGEKS.  243 

% 

requesting  me  to  lend  him  90Z.  (how  modest  to  stop 
short  of  the  hundred!).  I  lately  had  a  begging 
epistle  from  a  lady,  who  assured  me  that  she  used 
formerly  to  take  evening  walks  with  me  in  the 
Park :  of  course  I  did  not  answer  it ;  and  a  day  or 
two  after,  I  had  a  second  letter  from  her,  beginning 
"Unkind  one!" 


Uvedale  Price*  once  chose  to  stay  so  long  at 
my  house,  that  I  began  to  think  he  would  never  go 
away  :  so  I  one  day  ingeniously  said  to  him,  "  You 
must  not  leave  me  before  the  end  of  next  week  /  if 
you  insist  on  going  after  that,  you  may ;  but  cer 
tainly  not  before."  And  at  the  end  of  the  week  he 
did  go.  He  was  a  most  elegant  letter-writer  ;  and 
his  son  had  some  intention  of  collecting  and  pub 
lishing  his  correspondence. 


Not  long  before  Mrs.  Inchbald  died,  I  met  her 
walking  near  Charing  Cross.  She  told  me  that  she 
had  been  calling  on  several  old  friends,  but  had 

*  Afterwards  a  baronet. — ED. 


244:  Kimi.U.<  Tln\s    oK    TMK 

seen  none  of  them, — some  being  really  not  at  home, 
and  others  denying  themselves  to  her.  "  I  called," 
she  said,  "on  Mrs.  Siddons  :  1  knew  she  was  at 
home  ;  yet  I  was  not  admitted."  She  was  in  such 
low  spirits,  that  she  even  shed  tears.  I  begged  her 
to  turn  with  me,  and  take  a  quiet  dinner  at  St. 
James's  Place;  but  she  refused. 

The  "excellent  writer,"  whom  I  quote  in  my 
Notes  on  Human  Life,  is  Mrs.  Inchbald.  ["How 
often,  says  an  excellent  writer,  do  wo  err  in  our 
estimate  of  happiness !  When  I  hear  of  a  man  who 
has  noble  parks,  splendid  palaces,  and  every  luxury 

in  life,  I  al\vav>  in<|iiiiv  whom  he  has  1<>  love;  and 
if  I  find  ho  has  nobody,  or  does  not  love  those  'he 
has — in  the  midst  of  all  his  grandeur,  I  pronounce 

him  a  bring  in   deep  adversity."]     The   passage'   is 

from  her  Nature  <md  Art;  *  and  Stewart  Hose  was 

*  But  Mr.  Rogers  (as  lie  frequently  did  whoa  he  quoted)  lias 
considerably  altered  the  passage.  Mrs.  Inehbald's  words  arc : — 
"Sonic  person  .  I  know,  estimate  li:ip|.in.-,.,  1>\  I'm,-  houses,  gardens, 
and  parks,— others  by  pictures,  horses,  money,  and  various  things 
wholly  remote  from  their  own  species:  hut  when  I  wish  to  ascer 
tain  the  real  felicity  of  any  rational  man,  I  always  inquire  whom  he 
has  to  love.  If  I  find  lie  has  nobody — or  does  not  lore  those  he  has 
—even  in  the  midst  of  ull  his  prolusion  of  finery  and  grandeur,  I 
pronounce  him  :i  being  indcen  adversity."  Vol.  ii.  SI,  ed.  17%. 

—En, 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    KOGEKS.  24:5 

so  struck  with  it,  that  he  wrote  to  ask  me  where  it 
was  to  be  found. 


I  have  heard  Crabbe  describe  his  mingled  feel 
ings  of  hope  and  fear  as  he  stood  on  London  Bridge, 
when  he  first  came  up  to  town  to  try  his  fortune  in 
the  literary  world. 

The  situation  of  domestic  chaplain  in  a  great 
family  is  generally  a  miserable  one :  what  slights 
and  mortifications  attend  it !  Crabbe  had  had  his 
share  of  such  troubles  in  the  Duke  of  Rutland's 
family ;  and  I  well  remember  that,  at  a  London 
evening  party,  where  the  old  Duchess  of  Rutland  * 
was  present,  he  had  a  violent  struggle  with  his  feel 
ings  before  he  could  prevail  on  himself  to  go  up  and 
pay  his  respects  to  her. 

Crabbe,  after  his  literary  reputation  had  been 
established,  was  staying  for  a  few  days  at  the  Old 
Hummums  ;  but  he  was  known  to  the  people  in  the 
coffee-room  and  to  the  waiters  merely  as  "a  Mr. 
Crabbe."  One  forenoon,  when  he  had  gone  out,  a 
gentleman  called  on  him,  and,  while  expressing  his 
regret  at  not  finding  him  at  home,  happened  to  let 

*  In  her  youth  a  very  celebrated  beauty.     She  died  in  1831. — ED. 


246  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

drop  the  information  that  "  Mr.  Crabbe  was  the 
celebrated  poet."  The  next  time  that  Crabbe  en 
tered  the  coffee-room,  he  was  perfectly  astonished 
at  the  sensation  which  he  caused ;  the  company 
were  all  eagerness  to  look  at  him,  the  waiters  all 
officiousness  to  serve  him. 

Crabbe's  early  poetry  is  by  far  the  best,  as  to 
finish.  The  conclusion  of  The  Library  is  charm 
ingly  written ; 

"  Go  on,  then,  son  of  Vision!  still  pursue 
Thy  airy  dreams — the  world  is  dreaming  too. 
Ambition's  lofty  views,  the  pomp  of  state, 
The  pride  of  wealth,  the  splendours  of  the  great, 
Stripp'd  of  their  mask,  their  cares  and  troubles  known, 
Are  visions  far  less  happy  than  thy  own : 
Go  on !  and,  while  the  sons  of  care  complain, 
Be  wisely  gay  and  innocently  vain ; 
"While  serious  souls  are  by  their  fears  undone, 
Blow  sportive  bladders  in  the  beamy  sun, 
And  call  them  worlds !  and  bid  the  greatest  show 
More  radiant  colours  in  their  worlds  below : 
Then,  as  they  break,  the  slaves  of  care  reprove, 
And  tell  them,  Such  are  all  the  toys  they  love," 

I  asked  him  why  he  did  not  compose  his  later 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  247 

verses  with  equal  care.  He  answered,  "Because 
my  reputation  is  already  made."  When  he  after 
wards  told  me  that  he  never  produced  more  than 
forty  verses  a  day,  I  said  that  he  had  better  do  as  I 
do, — stint  himself  to  four. 

There  is  a  familiarity  in  some  parts  of  his  Tales 
which  makes  one  smile ;  yet  it  is  by  no  means  un- 
pleasing;  for  example, — 

"  Letters  were  sent  when  franks  could  be  procured, 
And  when  they  could  not,  silence  was  endured."  * 

Crabbe  used  often  to  repeat  with  praise  this 
couplet  from  Prior's  Solomon^ 

"  Abra  was  ready  ere  I  called  her  name. 
And  though  I  call'd  another,  Abra  came." 

It  is  somewhere  cited  by  Sir  Walter  Scott ;  ^  and 
I  apprehend  that  Crabbe  made  it  known  to  him. 


Other  statesmen,  besides  Sir  Robert  Peel,  have 
had  very  violent  things  said  against  them  in  the 

*  The  Frank  Courtship. — ED. 
f  B.  ii. — ED. 

\  Scott  quotes  it  (not  quite  correctly)  in  Rob  Roy,  vol,  iii.  324,  ed. 
1818.— ED. 


24b8  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

House.  Lord  North  once  complained,  in  a  speech, 
of  the  "  brutal  language  "  which  Colonel  Barre  had 
used  towards  him. — Colonel  Tarleton,  not  indeed  in 
the  House,  but  in  private  among  his  own  party, 
said  that  he  was  glad  to  see  Fox's  legs  swelled. 

Sir  Robert  Peel,  in  one  of  his  communicative 
moods,  told  me  that,  -when  he  was  a  boy,  his  father 
used  to  say  to  him,  "  Bob,  you  dog,  if  you  are  not 
prime  minister  some  day,  I'll  disinherit  you."  I 
mentioned  this  to  Sir  Robert's  sister,  Mrs.  Dawson, 
who  assured  me  that  she  had  often  heard  her  father 
use  those  very  words. 


It  is  curious  how  fashion  changes  pronunciation. 
In  my  youth  everybody  said  "  Lonnon,"  not  Lon 
don  :  "  Fox  said  "Lonnon  "  to  the  last;  and  so  did 
Crowe.  The  now  fashionable  pronunciation  of  seve 
ral  words  is  to  me  at  least  very  offensive  :  "  contem 
plate  "  is  bad  enough ;  but  "  balcony  "  makes  me 
sick, 


When  George   Colman  brought  out    his   Iron 
Chest,  he  had  not  the  civility  to  offer  Godwin  a  box, 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  24:9 

or  even  to  send  him  an  order  for  admission,  though 
the  play  was  dramatised  from  Caleb  Williams.  Of 
this  Godwin  spoke  with  great  bitterness. — Godwin 
was  generally  reckoned  a  disagreeable  man  ;  but  I 
must  say  that  Zdid  not  consider  him  such.** 


Ah,  the  fate  of  my  old  acquaintance,  Lady  Salis 
bury  !  The  very  morning  of  the  day  on  which  the 
catastrophe  occurred,  I  quitted  Hatfield ;  and  I  then 
shook  her  by  the  hand, — that  hand  which  was  so 
soon  to  be  a  cinder.  In  the  evening,  after  she  had 
been  dressed  for  dinner,  her  maid  left  her  to  go  to 
tea.  She  was  then  writing  letters  ;  and  it  is  sup 
posed  that,  having  stooped  down  her  head, — for  she 
was  very  short-sighted, — the  flame  of  the  candle 
caught  her  head-dress.  Strange  enough,  but  we  had 
all  remarked  the  day  before,  that  Lady  Salisbury 

*  One  evening  at  Mr.  Eogers's,  when  Godwin  was  present,  the 
conversation  turned  on  novels  and  romances.  The  company  having 
agreed  that  Don  Quixote,  Tom  Jones,  and  Gil  Bias,  were  unrivalled 
in  that  species  of  composition,  M"r.  Rogers  said,  "Well,  after  these, 
I  go  to  the  sofa"  (meaning,  "/think  that  the  next  best  are  by  God 
win,"  who  happened  to  be  sitting  on  the  sofa).  Quite  unconscious 
of  the  compliment  paid  to  him,  Godwin  exclaimed  in  great  surprise, 
"  What !  do  you  admire  The  Sofa  ?  "  (a  licentious  novel  by  the  younger 

Crebillon). — ED. 
11* 


250  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

seemed  most  unusually  depressed  in  spirits  ! — Her 
eyes,  as  is  generally  the  case  with  short-sighted  per 
sons,  were  so  good,  that  she  could  read  without  spec 
tacles  :  being  very  deaf,  she  would  often  read  when 
in  company ;  and,  as  she  was  a  bad  sleeper,  she 
would  sometimes  read  nearly  the  whole  night. 

Lady  Salisbury  never  had  any  pretensions  to 
beauty.  In  her  youth  she  was  dancing  in  a  coun 
try-dance  with  the  Prince  of  Wales  at  a  ball  given 
by  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire,  when  the  Prince 
suddenly  quitted  Lady  Salisbury,  and  finished  the 
dance  with  the  Duchess.  This  rude  behaviour  of 
his  Royal  Highness  drew  forth  some  lines  from 
Captain  Morris. 

["  Ungallant  youth !  could  royal  Edward  see, 

While  Salisbury's  Garter  decks  thy  faithless  knee, 
That  thou,  false  knight !  hadst  turn'd  thy  back,  and  fled 
From  such  a  Salisbury  as  might  wake  the  dead ; 
Quick  from  thy  treacherous  breast  her  badge  he'd  tear, 
And  strip  the  star  that  beauty  planted  there."  ] 


Madame  de  Stael  one  day  said  to  me,  "How 
eorry  I  am  for  Campbell !  his  poverty  so  unsettles 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  251 

his  mind,  that  he  cannot  write."  I  replied,  "  Why 
does  he  not  take  the  situation  of  a  clerk  ?  he  could 
then  compose  verses  during  his  leisure  hours."  This 
answer  was  reckoned  very  cruel  both  by  Madame 
de  Stael  and  Mackintosh  :  but  there  was  really  kind 
ness  as  well  as  truth  in  it.  When  literature  is  the 
sole  business  of  life,  it  becomes  a  drudgery  :  when 
we  are  able  to  resort  to  it  only  at  certain  hours,  it 
is  a  charming  relaxation.  In  my  earlier  years  I  was 
a  banker's  clerk,  obliged  to  be  at  the  desk  every 
day  from  ten  till  five  o'clock ;  and  I  never  shall  for 
get  the  delight  with  which,  on  returning  home,  I 
used  to  read  and  wrrite  during  the  evening. 

There  are  some  of  Campbell's  lyrics  which  will 
never  die.  His  Pleasures  of  Hope  is  no  great  fa 
vourite  with  me.*  Th&feeUng  throughout  his  Ger- 

*  And  it  was  much  less  so  with  Wordsworth,  who  criticised  it  to 
me  nearly  verbatim  as  follows ;  nor  could  his  criticism,  I  apprehena, 
be  easily  refuted.  "Campbell's  Pleasures  of  Hope  has  been  strangely 
overrated  :  its  fine  words  and  sounding  lines  please  the  generality 
of  readers,  who  never  stop  to  ask  themselves  the  meaning  of  a  passage. 
The  lines,— 

'  Where  Andes,  giant  of  the  western  wave, 
With  meteor-standard  to  the  winds  unfurl'd, 
Looks  from  his  throne  of  clouds  o'er  half  the  world,' 
are   sheer  nonsense  —  nothing   more  than    a    poetical    indigestion. 
What  has  a  giant  to  do  with  a  star  ?     What  is  a  meteor-standard  ? 


252  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

trude  is  very  beautiful ;  and  one  line,  describing 
Gertrude's  eyes,  is  exquisite, — "  those  eyes," 

"  That  seemed  to  love  whatever  they  loottd  upon."  * 

But  that  poem  has  passages  which  are  monstrously 
incorrect :  can  any  thing  be  worse  in  expression 
than — 

"  O  Love !  in  such  a  wilderness  as  this, 
Where  transport  and  security  entwine, 
Here  is  the  empire  of  thy  perfect  Hiss, 
And  here  thou  art  indeed  a  god  divine  "  ?  f 


I  cannot  forgive  Goethe  for  certain  things  in  his 
Faust  and  Wilhelm  Meister  :  the  man  who  appeals 
to  the  worst  part  of  my  nature  commits  a  great 
offence. 


— but  it  is  useless  to 'inquire  what  such  stuff  means.  Once,  at  my 
house,  Professor  Wilson  having  spoken  of  those  lines  with  great 
admiration,  a  very  sensible  and  accomplished  lady  who  happened  to 
be  present  begged  him  to  explain  to  her  their  meaning.  He  was 
extremely  indignant ;  and,  taking  down  the  Pleasures  of  Hope  from 
a  shelf,  read  the  lines  aloud,  and  declared  that  tbey  were  splendid. 
'  Well,  sir,'  said  the  lady,  '  but  what  do  they  mean  ?  '  Dashing  the  book 
on  the  floor,  he  exclaimed  in  his  broad  Scottish  accent,  '  I'll  be  daurned 
if  I  can  tell ! ' '"— ED. 

*  Part  ii.  st.  4.— ED.  f  Part  iii.  at.  1.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    KOGERS.  253 

The  talking  openly  of  their  own  merits  is  a  "  mag 
nanimity"  peculiar  to  foreigners.  You  remember 
the  angry  surprise  which  Lamartine  expresses  at 
Lady  Hester  Stanhope's  never  having  heard  of  him, 
— of  him,  a  person  so  celebrated  over  all  the  world ! 

Lamartine  is  a  man  of  genius,  but  very  affected. 
Talleyrand  (when  in  London)  invited  me  to  meet 
him,  and  placed  me  beside  him  at  dinner.  I  asked 
him,  "  Are  you  acquainted  with  Beranger  ?  "  "  No ; 
he  wished  to  be  introduced  to  me,  but  I  declined  it." 
— "  I  would  go,"  said  I,  "  a  league  to  see  him." 
This  was  nearly  all  our  conversation:  he  did  not 
choose  to  talk.  In  short,  he  was  so  disagreeable, 
that,  some  days  after,  both  Talleyrand  and  the 
Duchess  di  Dino  apologised  to  me  for  his  ill-breed 
ing. 


At  present  new  plays  seem  hardly  to  be  regarded 
as  literature ;  people  may  go  to  see  them  acted,  but 
no  one  thinks  of  reading  them.  During  the  run  of 
Paul  Pry,  I  happened  to  be  at  a  dinner-party  where 
every  body  was  talking  about  it, — that  is,  about 
Liston's  performance  of  the  hero.  I  asked  first  one 
person,  then  another,  and  then  another,  who  was  the 


254:  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

author  of  it  ?     ~Not  a  man  or  woman  in  the  company 
knew  that  it  was  written  by  Poole ! 


When  people  have  had  misunderstandings  with 
each  other,  and  are  anxious  to  be  again  on  good 
terms,  they  ought  never  to  make  attempts  at  recon 
ciliation  by  means  of  letters ;  they  •  should  see  each 
other.  Sir  "Walter  Scott  quarrelled  with  Lady  Roslin, 
in  consequence,  I  believe,  of  some  expressions  he  had 
used  about  Fox.  "  If  Scott,"  said  she,  "  instead  of 
writing  to  me  on  the  subject,  had  only  paid  me  a 
visit,  I  must  have  forgiven  him." 

There  had  been  for  some  time  a  coolness  between 
Lord  Durham  and  myself ;  and  I  was  not  a  little 
annoyed  to  find  that  I  was  to  sit  next  him  at  one 
of  the  Royal  Academy  dinners  :  I  requested  the 
stewards  to  change  my  place  at  the  table  ;  but  it 
was  too  late  to  make  any  alteration.  "We  sat  down. 
Lord  Durham  took  no  notice  of  me.  At  last  I  said 
to  him,  "  Will  vour  lordship  do  me  the  honour  or 
drinking  a  glass  of  wine  with  me  ? "  He  answered, 
"  Certainly,  on  condition  that  you  will  come  and  dine 
with  me  soon." 


TAELE-TA1.K   OF    SAMUEL    ROGEKS.  255 

This  is  not  a  bad  charade  :  What  is  it  that  causes 
a  cold,  cures  a  cold,  and  pays  the  doctor  ?     A  draft. 


I  hope  to  read  Ariosto  through  once  more  before 
I  die,  if  not  in  the  original,  in  Harrington's  transla 
tion,  which  in  some  parts  is  very  well  done  ;  in  one 
part, — the  story  of  Jocondo, — admirably. 

Rose's  version  is  so  bald,*  that  it  wearies  me.  I 
read  the  whole  of  it,  by  Rose's  desire,  in  the  proof 
sheets. — At  one  time  Rose  gave  himself  up  so  en 
tirely  to  Italian,  that  he  declared  "  he  felt  some  dif 
ficulty  in  using  his  native  language." 

Once,  when  Rose  complained  to  me  of  being  un 
happy  "from  the  recollection  of  having  done  many 
things  which  he  wished  he  had  not  done,"  I  com 
forted  him  by  replying,  "  I  know  that  during  your 
life  you  have  done  many  kind  and  generous  things  ; 
but  them  you  have  forgotten,  because  a  man's  good 
deeds  fade  away  from  Ms  memory,  while  those  which 
are  the  reverse  keep  constantly  recurring  to  it" 

*  Rose's  version  of  Ariosto  is  sometimes  rather  flat ;  but  surely  it 
is,  on  the  whole,  far  superior  to  any  other  English  one.  The  brilliancy 
and  the  airy  grace  of  the  original  are  almost  beyond  the  reach  of  a 
translator. — ED. 


256  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

He  was  in  a  sad  state  of  mental  imbecility  shortly 
before  his  death.  When  people  attempted  to  enter 
into  conversation  with  him,  he  would  continue  to 
ask  them  two  questions, — "  When  did  Sir  Walter 
Scott  die  ?  "  and  "  How  is  Lord  Holland  ? "  (who  was 
already  dead.)  But  I,  aware  that  no  subject  is  so 
exciting  to  an  author  as  that  of  his  own  writings, 
spoke  to  Rose  about  his  various  publications  ;  and, 
for  a  while,  he  talked  of  them  rationally  enough. — 
Pwtenopex  of  Blois  is  his  best  work. 


Lord  Grenville  has  more  than  once  said  to  me  at 
Dropmore,  "  What  a  frightful  mistake  it  was  to  send 
such  a  person  as  Lord  Castlereagh  to  the  Congress  of 
Vienna !  a  man  who  was  so  ignorant,  that  he  did  not 
know  the  map  of  Europe ;  and  who  could  be  won 
over  to  make  any  concessions  by  only  being  asked 
to  breakfast  with  the  Emperor." 

Castlereagh's  education  had  been  sadly  neglect 
ed  ;  but  he  possessed  considerable  talents,  and  was 
very  amiable. 


1  have  read  Gilpin's  Life  of  Oranmer  several 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  257 

times  through.  What  an  interesting  account  he 
gives  of  the  manner  in  which  Cranmer  passed  the 
day ! — I  often  repeat  a  part  of  Cranmer's  prayer  at 
the  stake — "  O  blessed  Redeemer,  who  assumed  not 
a  mortal  shape  for  small  offences,  who  died  not  to 
atone  for  venial  sms"*  &c. 


I  don't  call  Robinson  Crusoe  and  Gulliver's 
Travels  "  novels : "  they  stand  quite  unrivalled  for 
invention  among  all  prose  fictions. 

When  I  was  at  Banbury,  I  happened  to  observe 
in  the  churchyard  several  inscriptions  to  the  me 
mory  of  persons  named  Gulliver ;  and,  on  my  return 
home,  looking  into  Gulliver's  Travels,  I  found,  to 
my  surprise,  that  the  said  inscriptions  are  mentioned 
there  as  a  confirmation  of  Mr.  Gulliver's  statement 
chat  "  his  familv  came  from  Oxfordshire." 


I  am  not  sure  that  I  would  not  rather  have  writ 
ten  Manzoni's  Promessi  Sposi  than  all  Scott's  novels. 
Manzoni's  mother  was  a  daughter  of  the  famous 
Beccaria ;  and  I  remember  seeing  her  about  sixty 
*  p.  211. 


258  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

years  ago  at  the  house  of  the  father  of  the  Misses 
Berry :  she  was  a  very  lively  agreeable  woman. 


Bowles,  like  most  other  poets,  was  greatly  de 
pressed  by  the  harsh  criticisms  of  the  reviewers.  I 
advised  him  not  to  mind  them ;  and,  eventually  fol 
lowing  my  advice,  he  became  a  much  happier  man. 
I  suggested  to  him  the  subject  of  The  Missionary  ; 
and  he  was  to  dedicate  it  to  me.  He,  however, 
dedicated  it  to  a  noble  lord,  who  never,  either  by 
word  or  letter,  acknowledged  the  dedication. 

Bowles's  nervous  timidity  is  *  the  most  ridiculous 
thing  imaginable.  Being  passionately  fond  of  music, 

*  Wordsworth,  Mrs.  Wordsworth,  their  daughter,  and  Bowles,  went 
upon  the  Thames  in  a  boat,  one  fine  summer's  day.  Though  the 
water  was  smooth  as  glass,  Bowles  very  soon  became  so  alarmed,  that 
he  insisted  on  being  set  ashore  ;  upon  which  Wordsworth  said  to  him, 
"  Your  confessing  your  cowardice  is  the  most  striking  instance  of 
valour  that  I  ever  met  with."  This  was  told  to  me  by  Wordsworth 
himself. — What  follows  is  from  my  Memoranda  of  Wordsworth's  con 
versation.  "When  Bowles's  Sonnets  first  appeared, — a  thin  4to  pam 
phlet,  entitled  Fourteen  Sonnets, — I  bought  them  in  a  walk  through 
London  with  my  dear  brother,  who  was  afterwards  drowned  at  sea. 
I  read  them  as  we  went  along ;  and  to  the  great  annoyance  of  my 
brother,  I  stopped  in  a  niche  of  London  Bridge  to  finish  the  pamphlet. 
Bowles's  short  pieces  are  his  best :  his  long  poems  are  rather  flaccid" 
—ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  259 

lie  came  to  London  expressly  to  attend  the  last  com 
memoration  of  Handel.  After  going  into  the  Abbey, 
he  observed  that  the  door  was  closed :  immediately 
he  ran  to  the  doorkeeper,  exclaiming,  "  What !  am 
I  to  be  shut  up  here  ?"  and  out  he  went,  before  he 
had  heard  a  single  note.  I  once  bought  a  stall-ticket 
for  him,  that  he  might  accompany  me  to  the  Opera ; 
but,  just  as  we  were  stepping  into  the  carriage,  he 
said,  "Dear  me,  your  horses  seem  uncommonly 
frisky ; "  and  he  stayed  at  home. 

"  I  never,"  said  he,  "  had  but  one  watch ;  and  I 
lost  it  the  very  first  day  I  wore  it."  Mrs.  Bowles 
whispered  to  me,  "  And  if  he  got  another  to-day,  he 
would  lose  it  as  quickly." 


Major  Price*  was  a  great  favourite  with  George 
the  Third,  and  ventured  to  say  any  thing  to  him. 
They  were  walking  together  in  the  grounds  at  Wind 
sor  Castle,  when  the  following  dialogue  took  place. 
"  I  shall  certainly,"  said  the  King,  "  order  tin's  tree 
to  be  cut  down."  "  If  it  is  cut  down,  your  majesty 
will  have  destroyed  the  finest  tree  about  the  Castle." 

*  Brother  to  Sir  Uvedale  Price,  and  for  many  years  vice-chamber" 
lain  to  Queen  Charlotte. — ED. 


260  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

— "  Really,  it  is  surprising  that-  people  constantly 
oppose  my  wishes."  "  Permit  me  to  observe,  that 
if  your  majesty  will  not  allow  people  to  speak,  you 
will  never  hear  the  truth."  "  "Well,  Price,  I  believe 
you  are  right." 

When  the  Duke  of  Clarence  (William  the  Fourth) 
was  a  very  young  man,  he  happened  to  be  dining 
at  the  Equerries'  table.  Among  the  company  was 
Major  Price.  The  Duke  told  one  of  his  facetious 
stories.  "  Excellent ! "  said  Price ;  "  I  wish  I  could 
believe  it."  "  If  you  say  that  again,  Price,"  cried 
the  Duke,  "  I'll  send  this  claret  at  your  head."  Price 
did  say  it  again.  Accordingly  the  claret  came — 
and  it  was  returned.  I  had  this  from  Lord  St. 
Helens,  who  was  one  of  the  party. 

Once,  when  in  company  with  William  the  Fourth, 
I  quite  forgot  that  it  is  against  all  etiquette  to  ask  a 
sovereign  about  his  health ;  and?  on  his  saying  to 
me,  "  Mr.  Rogers,  I  hope  you  are  well,"  I  replied, 
"  Yery  well,  I  thank  your  majesty :  I  trust  that  your 
majesty  is  quite  well  also"  Never  was  a  king  in 
greater  confusion ;  he  didn't  know  where  to  look, 
and  stammered  out,  "Yes — yes — only  a  little 
rheumatism." 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  261 

I  have  several  times  breakfasted  with,  the  Prin 
cesses  at  Buckingham  House.  The  Queen  (Char 
lotte)  always  breakfasted  with  the  King :  but  she 
would  join  us  afterwards,  and  read  the  newspapers 
to  us  or  converse  very  agreeably. 


Dining  one  day  with  the  Princess  of  Wales 
(Queen  Caroline),  I  heard  her  say  that  on  her  first 
arrival  in  this  country,  she  could  speak  only  one 
word  of  English.  Soon  after,  I  mentioned  that  cir 
cumstance  to  a  large  party ;  and  a  discussion  arose 
what  English  word  would  be  most  useful  for  a  per 
son  to  know,  supposing  that  person's  knowledge 
of  the  language  must  be  limited  to  a  single  word. 
The  greater  number  of  the  company  fixed  on  "  Yes." 
But  Lady  Charlotte  Lindsay  said  that  she  should 
prefer  "No;"  because,  though  "  Yes,"  never  meant 
"No,"— "No"  very  often  meant  "Yes." 

The  Princess  was  very  good-natured  and  agree 
able.  She  once  sent  to  me  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  to  say  that  she  was  coming  to  sup  with 
me  that  night.  I  returned  word,  that  I  should  feel 
highly  honoured  by  her  coming,  but  that  unfortu- 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

nately  it  was  too  late  to  make  up  a  party  to  meet 
her.  She  came,  however,  bringing  with  her  Sir 
William  Drummond. 

One  night,  after  dining  with  her  at  Kensington 
Palace,  I  was  sitting  in  the  carriage,  waiting  for  Sir 
Henry  Englefield  to  accompany  me  to  town,  when  a 
sentinel,  at  about  twenty  yards'  distance  from  me, 
was  struck  dead  by  a  flash  of  lightning.  I  never 
beheld  any  thing  like  that  flash :  it  was  a  body  of 
flame,  in  the  centre  of  which  were  quivering  zigzag 
fires,  such  as  artists  put  into  the  hand  of  Jupiter ; 
and,  after  being  visible  for  a  moment,  it  seemed  to 
explode.  I  immediately  returned  to  the  hall  of  the 
Palace,  where  I  found  the  servants  standing  in  ter 
ror,  with  their  faces  against  the  wall. 

I  was  to  dine  on  a  certain  day  with  the  Princess 
of  Wales  at  Kensington,  and,  thinking  that  Ward 
(Lord  Dudley)  was  to  "be  of  the  party,  I  wrote  to 
him,  proposing  that  w^e  should  go  together.  His 
answer  was,  "  Dear  Rogers,  I  am  not  invited.  The 
fact  is,  when  I  dined  there  last,  I  made  several  rather 
free  jokes  ;  and  the  Princess,  taking  me  perhaps  for 
a  clergyman,  has  not  asked  me  back  again." 

One  night,  at  Kensington,  I  had  the  Princess  for 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  263 

my  partner  in  a  country-dance  of  fourteen  couple. 
I  exerted  myself  to  the  utmost ;  but  not  quite  to 
her  satisfaction,  for  she  kept  calling  out  to  me, 
"  Yite,  vite ! " 

She  was  fond  of  going  to  public  places  incog. 
One  forenoon,  she  sent  me  a  note  to  say  that  she 
wished  me  to  accompany  her  that  evening  to  the 
theatre  ;  but  I  had  an  engagement  which  I  did  not 
choose  to  give  up,  and  declined  accompanying  her. 
She  took  offence  at  this ;  and  our  intercourse  was 
broken  off  till  we  met  in  Italy.  I  was  at  an  inn 
about  a  stage  from  Milan,  when  I  saw  Queen  Caro 
line's  carriages  in  the  court-yard.  I  kept  myself 
quite  close,  and  drew  down  the  blinds  of  the  sitting 
room  :  but  the  good-natured  Queen  found  out  that 
I  was  there,  and,  coming  to  my  window,  knocked  on 
it  with  her  knuckles.  In  a  moment  we  were  the 
best  friends  possible ;  and  there,  as  afterwards  in 
other  parts  of  Italy,  I  dined  and  spent  the  day  with 
her.  Indeed,  I  once  travelled  during  a  whole  night 
in  the  same  carriage  with  her  and  Lady  Charlotte 
Campbell ;  when  the  shortness  of  her  majesty's  legs 
not  allowing  her  to  rest  them  on  the  seat  opposite., 
she  wheeled  herself  round,  and  very  coolly  placed 


264:  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

them  on  the  lap  of  Lady  Charlotte,  who  was  sitting 
next  to  her. 


I  remember  Brighton  before  the  Pavilion  was 
built ;  and  in  those  days  I  have  seen  the  Prince  of 
Wales  drinking  tea  in  a  public  room  of  what  was 
then  the  chief  inn,  just  as  other  people  did. 

At  a  great  party  given  by  Henry  Hope  in  Caven 
dish  Square,  Lady  Jersey*  said  she  had  something 
particular  to  tell  me ;  so,  not  to  be  interrupted,  we 
went  into  the  gallery.  As  we  were  walking  along 
it,  we  met  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who,  on  seeing  Lady 
Jersey,  stopped  for  a  moment,  and  then,  drawing 
himself  up,  marched  past  her  with  a  look  of  the 

*  "  The  Prince  one  day  said  to  Colonel  Willis,  '  I  am  determined 
to  break  off  my  intimacy  with  Lady  Jersey;  and  you  must  deliver 
the  letter  which  announces  to  her  my  determination.'  When  Willis 
put  it  into  Lady  Jersey's  hand,  she  said,  before  opening  it,  '  You  have 
brought  me  a  gilded  dagger.' — Willis  was  on  such  familiar  terms  with 
the  Prince,  that  he  ventured  to  give  his  advice  about  his  conduct. 
'  If  your  royal  highness,'  he  said,  '  would  only  show  yourself  at  the 
theatre  or  in  the  park,  in  company  with  the  Princess,  two  or  three 
times  a  year,  the  public  would  be  quite  content,  and  would  not  trouble 
themselves  about  your  domestic  proceedings.'  The  Prince  replied, 
'  Really,  Willis,  with  the  exception  of  Lord  Moira,  nobody  ever  pre 
sumed  to  speak  to  me  as  you  do.'  The  Prince  Avas  anxious  to  get  rid 
of  Lord  Moira ;  and  hence  his  lordship's  splendid  banishment. — These 
anecdotes  were  told  to  me  by  Willis." — Mr.  MALTBY  (see  notice  pre 
fixed  to  the  Porsoniana  in  this  volume). — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  265 

utmost  disdain.  Lady  Jersey  returned  the  look  to 
the  full ;  and,  as  soon  as  the  Prince  was  gone,  said 
to  me  with  a  smile,  "  Didn't  I  do  it  well  ? " — I  was 
taking  a  drive  with  Lady  Jersey  in  her  carriage, 
when  I  expressed  (with  great  sincerity)  my  regret 
at  being  unmarried,  saying  that  "  if  I  had  a  wife, 
I  should  have  somebody  to  care  about  me"  "  Pray, 
Mr.  Rogers,"  said  Lady  J.,  "how  could  you  be  sure 
that  your  wife  would  not  care  more  about  somebody 
else  than  about  you  ?  " 

I  was  staying  at  Lord  Bathurst's,  when  he  had 
to  communicate  to  the  Prince  Regent  the  death  of 
the  Princess  Charlotte.  The  circumstances  were 
these. .  Lord  Bathurst  was  suddenly  roused  in  the 
middle  of  the  night  by  the  arrival  of  the  messenger 
to  inform  him  that  the  Princess  was  dead.  After  a 
short  consultation  with  his  family,  Lord  Bathurst 
went  to  the  Duke  of  York ;  and  his  royal  highness 
having  immediately  dressed  himself,  they  proceeded 
together  to  Carlton  House.  On  reaching  it,  they 
asked  to  see  Sir  Benjamin  Bloomfield;  and  telling 
him  what  had  occurred,  they  begged  him  to  convey 
the  melancholy  tidings  to  the  Prince  Regent.  He 
firmly  refused  to  do  so.  They  then  begged  Sir  Ben- 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE 

jamin  to  inform  the  Prince  that  they  requested  to 
see  him  on  a  matter  of  great  importance.  A  message 
was  brought  back  by  Sir  Benjamin,  that  the  Prince 
already  knew  all  they  had  to  tell  him, — viz.  that  the 
Princess  had  been  delivered,  and  that  the  child  was 
dead, — and  that  he  declined  seeing  them  at  present. 
They  again,  by  means  of  Sir  Benjamin,  urged  their 
request ;  and  were  at  last  admitted  into  the  Prince's 
chamber.  He  was  sitting  up  in  bed ;  and,  as  soon 
as  they  entered,  he  repeated  what  he  had  previously 
said  by  message, — that  he  already  knew  all  they  had 
to  tell  him,  &c.  Lord  Bathurst  then  communicated 
the  fatal  result  of  the  Princess's  confinement.  On 
hearing  it,  the  Prince  Regent  struck  his  forehead 
violently  with  both  his  hands,  and  fell  forward  into 
the  arms  of  the  Duke  of  York.  Among  other  ex 
clamations  which  this  intelligence  drew  from  him, 
was,  "  Oh,  what  will  become  of  that  poor  man 
(Prince  Leopold) !  " — Yet,  only  six  or  seven  hours 
had  elapsed,  when  he  was  busily  arranging  all  the 
pageantry  for  his  daughter's  funeral. 

The  Duchess  of  Buckingham  told  me  that,  when 
George  the  Fourth  slept  at  Stowe  in  the  state  bed 
chamber  (which  has  a  good  deal  of  ebony  furniture), 


TABLE-TALK    OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  267 

it  was  lighted  up  with,  a  vast  number  of  wax  can 
dles,  which  were  kept  burning  the  whole  night. — 
Nobody,  I  imagine,  except  a  king,  has  any  liking 
for  a  state  bedchamber.  I  was  at  Cassiobury  with 
a  large  party,  when  a  gentleman  arrived,  to  whom 
Lord  Essex  said,  "  I  must  put  you  into  the  state 
bedroom,  as  it  is  the  only  one  unoccupied."  The 
gentleman,  rather  than  sleep  in  it,  took  up  his  quar 
ters  at  the  inn. 

~No  one  had  more  influence  over  George  the 
Fourth  than  Sir  William  Knighton.  Lawrence  (the 
painter)  told  me  that  he  was  once  dining  at  the 
palace  when  the  King  said  to  Knighton  that  he  was 
resolved  to  discharge  a  particular  attendant  imme 
diately.  "  Sir,"  replied  Knighton,  "  he  is  an  excel 
lent  servant." — "I  am  determined  to  discharge 
him,"  said  the  King.  "  Sir,"  replied  Knighton,  "  he 
is  an  excellent  servant." — "Well,  well,"  said  the 
King,  "  let  him  remain  till  I  think  further  of  it." — 
Speaking  of  Knighton  to  an  intimate  friend,  George 
the  Fourth  remarked,  "  My  obligations  to  Sir  Wil 
liam  Knighton  are  greater  than  to  any  man  alive  : 
he  has  arranged  all  my  accounts,  and  brought  per 
fect  order  out  of  chaos." 


268  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

One  day  when  George  the  Fourth  was  talking 
about  his  youthful  exploits,  he  mentioned,  with  par 
ticular  satisfaction,  that  he  had  made  a  body  of 
troops  charge  down  the  Devil's  Dyke  (near  Brigh 
ton).  Upon  which  the  Duke  of  Wellington  merely 
observed  to  him,  "  Yery  steep,  sir." 

I  was  told  by  the  Duchess  Countess  of  Suther 
land  what  Sir  Henry  Halford  had  told  her, — that, 
when  George  the  Fourth  was  very  near  his  end,  he 
said  to  him,  "  Pray,  Sir  Henry,  keep  these  women 
from  me  "  (alluding  to  certain  ladies). 


I'll  tell  you  an  anecdote  of  Napoleon,  which  I 
had  from  Talleyrand.  i Napoleon,"  said  T.,  'was 
at  Boulogne  with  the  Army  of  England,  when  he 
received  intelligence  that  the  Austrians,  under 
Mack,  wore  at  Ulm.  i  If  it  had  been  mine  to  place 
them,'  exclaimed  Napoleon,  c  I  should  have  placed 
them  there."  In  a  moment  the  army  was  on  the 
march,  and  he  at  Paris.  I  attended  him  to  Strasburg. 
We  were  there  at  the  house  of  the  Prefet,  and  no 
one  in  the  room  but  ourselves,  when  Napoleon  was 
suddenly  seized  with  a  fit,  foaming  at  the  mouth  ; 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  269 

he  cried  '  Fermez  la  porte  ! '  and  then  lay  senseless 
on  the  floor.  I  bolted  the  door.  Presently,  Berthier 
knocked.  '  On  ne  pent  pas  entrer.'  Afterwards, 
the  Empress  knocked;  to  whom  I  addressed  the 
same  words.  Now,  what  a  situation  would  mine 
have  been,  if  Napoleon  had  died !  But  he  recovered 
in  about  half  an  hour.  Next  morning,  by  daybreak, 
he  was  in  his  carriage;  and  within  sixty  hours  the 
Austrian  army  had  capitulated." 

I  repeated  the  anecdote  to  Lucien  Buonaparte,* 
who  listened  with  great  sang  froid.  "  Did  you  ever 
hear  this  before  ?  "  Never :  but  many  great  men 
have  been  subject  to  fits ;  for  instance,  Julius  Caesar. 
My  brother,  on  another  occasion,  had  an  attack  of 
the  same  kind ;  but  that "  (and  he  smiled)  "  was 
after  being  defeated."  f 

On  my  asking  Talleyrand  if  Napoleon  was  really 
married  to  Josephine,  he  replied,  "Pas  tout-a-fait." 

I  asked  him  which  was  the  best  portrait  of  Na- 

*  Mr.  Rogers  was  very  intimate  with  Lucien,  and  liked  him  much ; 
yet  he  could  not  resist  occasionally  laughing  at  some  things  in  his 
Charlemagne ;  for  instance,  at, — 

"  L'ange  maudit  admire  et  contemple  Judas." 

c.  ix.  87.— ED. 

f  An  allusion  to  an  adventure  with  an  actress. — ED. 


270  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

poleon.  He  said,  "that  which  represents  him  at 
Malmaison :  it  is  by  Isabey.  The  marble  bust  of 
Napoleon  by  Canova,  which  I  gave  to  A.  Baring, 
is  an  excellent  likeness." 

"Did  Napoleon  shave  himself?"  I  inquired. 
"  Yes,"  answered  Talleyrand,  "  but  very  slowly,  and 
conversing  during  the  operation.  He  used  to  say 
that  kings  by  birth  were  shaved  by  others,  but  that 
he  who  has  made  himself  Roi  shaves  himself." 

To  my  question — whether  the  despatch  which 
Napoleon  published  on  his  retreat  from  Moscow 
was  written  by  Napoleon  himself, — Talleyrand  re 
plied,  "  By  himself,  certainly." 


Dr.  Lawrence  assured  me  that  Burke  shortened 
his  life  by  the  frequent  use  of  emetics, — "  he  was 
always  tickling  his  throat  with  a  feather."  He 
complained  of  an  oppression  at  his  chest,  which  he 
fancied  emetics  would  remove. 

Malone  (than  whom  no  one  was  more  intimate 
with  Burke)  persisted  to  the  last  in  saying  that,  if 
Junius's  Letters  were  not  written  by  Burke,  they 
were  at  least  written  by  some  person  who  had  re- 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  271 

ceived  great  assistance  from  Burke  in  composing 
them ;  and  he  was  strongly  inclined  to  fix  the  au 
thorship  of  them  upon  Dyer.*  Burke  had  a  great 
friendship  for  Dyer,  whom  he  considered  to  be  a 
man  of  transcendent  abilities ;  and  it  was  reported, 
that,  upon  Dyer's  death,  Burke  secured  and  sup 
pressed  all  the  papers  which  he  had  left  behind  him. 

I  once  dined  at  Dilly's  in  company  with  Wood- 
fall,  who  then  declared  in  the  most  positive  terms 
that  he  did  not  know  who  Junius  was. 

A  story  appeared  in  the  newspapers  that  an  un 
known  individual  had  died  at  Marlborough,  and  that, 
in  consequence  of  his  desire  expressed  just  before 
his  death,  the  word  Junius  had  been  placed  over  his 
grave.  Now,  Sir  James  Mackintosh  and  I,  happen 
ing  to  be  at  Marlborough,  resolved  to  inquire  into 
the  truth  of  this  story.  We  accordingly  went  into 
the  shop  of  a  bookseller,  a  respectable-looking  old 
man  with  a  velvet  cap,  and  asked  him  what  he  knew 

*  Samuel  Dyer.  See  an  account  of  him  in  Malone's  Life  of 
Dryden,  p.  181,  where  he  is  mentioned  as  "  a  man  of  excellent  taste 
and  profound  erudition ;  whose  principal  literary  work,  under  a  Roman 
signature,  when  the  veil  with  which  for  near  thirty-one  years  it  has 
heen  enveloped  shall  be  removed,  will  place  him  in  a  high  rank  among 
English  writers,  and  transmit  a  name,  now  little  known,  with  dis 
tinguished  lustre  to  posterity." — ED. 


272  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

about  it.  "I  have  heard"  said  he,  "that  a  person 
was  buried  here  with  that  inscription  on  his  grave ; 
but  I  have  not  seen  it."  He  then  called  out  to  his 
daughter,  "What  do  you  know  about  it,  Nan?  "  "1 
have  heard"  replied  E"an,  "  that  there  is  such  a 
grave ;  but  I  have  not  seen  it."  We  next  applied  to 
the  sexton ;  and  his  answer  was,  "  I  have  heard  of 
such  a  grave ;  but  I  have  not  seen  it."  Nor  did  we 
see  it,  you  may  be  sure,  though  we  took  the  trouble 
of  going  into  the  churchyard.* 

My  own  impression  is,  that  the  Letters  of  Junius 
were  written  by  Sir  Philip  Francis.  In  a  speech, 
which  I  once  heard  him  deliver,  at  the  Mansion 
House,  concerning  the  Partition  of  Poland,  I  had  a 
striking  proof  that  Francis  possessed  no  ordinary 
powers  of  eloquence. 


I  was  one  day  conversing  with  Lady  Holland  in 

*  A  friend  observed  to  me, — "Mr.  Rogers  and  Sir  James  should 
have  gone,  not  to  Marlborough,  but  to  Hungerford ;  and  there  they 
would  have  found  a  tomb  with  this  inscription,  Stat  nominis  umbra ; 
which  is  the  motto  of  Junius  ;  and  hence  the  tomb  is  called  Junius's 
tomb"  I  mentioned  this  to  Mr.  Rogers,  who  said,  "  It  may  be  so  ; 
but  what  I  told  you  about  our  inquiries  at  Marlborough  is  fact ;  and 
a  good  story  it  is. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   ROGERS.  273 

her  dressing-room,  when  Sir  Philip  Francis  was 
announced.  "  Now,"  she  said,  "  I  will  ask  him  if 
he  is  J*unius."  I  was  about  to  withdraw ;  but  she 
insisted  on  my  staying.  Sir  Philip  entered,  and, 
soon  after  he  was  seated,  she  put  the  question  to 
him.  His  answer  was,  "  Madam,  do  you  mean  to 
insult  me  ? " — and  he  went  on  to  say,  that  when  he 
was  a  younger  man,  people  would  not  have  ventured 
to  charge  him  with  being  the  author  of  those  Let 
ters.* 

When  Lady  Holland  wanted  to  get  rid  of  a  fop, 
she  used  to  say,  "I  beg  your  pardon, — but  I  wish 
you  would  sit  a  little  further  off;  there  is  something 
on  your  handkerchief  which  I  don't  quite  like." 

When,  any  gentleman,  to  her  great  annoyance, 
was  standing  with  his  back  close  to  the  chimney- 
piece,  she  would  call  out,  "Have  the  goodness,  sir, 
to  stir  the  fire !  " 

*  The  following  notice  must  be  referred,  I  presume,  to  an 
earlier  occasion.  "  Brougham  was  by  when  Francis  i  .ade  the  often- 
quoted  answer  to  Rogers — '  There  is  a  question,  Sir  Philip  (said  R.), 
which  I  should  much  like  to  ask,  if  you  will  allow  me.'  '  You  had 
better  not,  sir  (answered  Francis)  ;  you  may  have  reason  to  be  sorry 
for  it  (or  repent  of  it).'  The  addition  [by  the  newspapers]  to  this 
story  is,  that  Rogers,  on  leaving  him,  muttered  to  himself,  '  If  he  is 
Juiiius,  it  must  be  Jumus  Brutus"  Moore's  Memoirs,  (fee.  vol.  vi.  66. 
—En. 


274  EECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

Her  delight  was  to  conquer  all  difficulties  that 
might  oppose  her  will.  Near  Tunbridge  there  is 
(at  least,  there  was)  a  house  which  no  stranger  was 
allowed  to  see.  Lady  Holland  never  ceased  till  she 
got  permission  to  inspect  it;  and  through  it  she 
marched  in  triumph,  taking  a  train  of  people  with 
her,  even  her  maid. 

When  she  and  Lord  Holland  were  at  Naples, 
Murat  and  his  Queen  used  to  have  certain  evenings 
appointed  for  receiving  persons  of  distinction. 
Lady  Holland  would  not  go  to  those  royal  parties. 
At  last  Murat,  who  was  always  anxious  to  conciliate 
the  English  government,  gave  a  concert  expressly 
in  honour  of  Lady  Holland ;  and  she  had  the  grati 
fication  of  sitting,  at  that  concert,  .between  Murat 
and  the  Queen,  when,  no  doubt,  she  applied  to  them 
her  screw, — that  is,  she  fairly  asked  them  about 
every  thing  which  she  wished  to  know. — By  the  by, 
Murat  and  his  Queen  were  extremely  civil  to  me. 
The  Queen  once  talked  to  me  about  The  Pleasures 
of  Memory.  I  often  met  Murat  when  he  was  on 
horseback,  and  he  would  invariably  call  out  to  me, 
rising  in  his  stirrups,  "  He  bien,  Monsieur,  e'tes- 
vous  inspir^  aujourdhui?" 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  275 

Lord  Holland  never  ventured  to  ask  any  one  to 
dinner  (not  even  me,  whom  he  had  known  so  long 
and  so  intimately)  without  previously  consulting 
Lady  H.  Shortly  before  his  death,  I  called  at  Hol 
land  House,  and  found  only  Lady  H.  within.  As 
I  was  coming  out,  I  met  Lord  Holland,  who  said, 
"  Well,  do  you  return  to  dinner  ? "  I  answered, 
"ISTo;  I  have  not  been  invited."  Perhaps  this  de 
ference  to  Lady  H.*  was  not  to  be  regretted ;  for 
Lord  Holland  was  so  hospitable  and  good-natured, 
that,  had  he  been  left  to  himself,  he  would  have  had 
a  crowd  at  his  table  daily. 

What  a  disgusting  thing  is  the  fagging  at  our 
great  schools  !  When  Lord  Holland  was  a  school 
boy,  he  was  forced,  as  a  fag,  to  toast  bread  with  his 
fingers  for  the  breakfast  of  another  boy.  Lord  H.'s 
mother  sent  him  a  toasting-fork.  His  fagger  broke 
it  over  his  head,  and  still  compelled  him  to  prepare 
the  toast  in  the  old  way.  In  consequence  of  this 

*  Lady  Holland  was  not  among  Mr.  Rogers's  earliest  acquaint 
ances  in  the  great  world. — Mr.  Kichard  Sharp  once  said  to  him, 
"When  do  you  mean  to  give  up  the  society  of  Lady  Jersey?  "  Mr. 
Rogers  replied,  "  When  you  give  up  that  of  Lady  Holland," — little 
thinking  then  that  she  was  eventually  to  be  one  of  his* own  most  inti 
mate  friends. — ED. 


276  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

process  his  fingers  suffered  so  much  that  they  always 
retained  a  withered  appearance. 

Lord  Holland  persisted  in  saying  that  pictures 
gave  him  more  pain  than  pleasure.  He  also  hated 
music ;  yet,  in  some  respects,  he  had  a  very  good 
ear,  for  he  was  a  capital  mimic. 


What  a  pity  it  is  that  Luttrell  gives  up  nearly 
his  whole  time  to  persons  of  mere  fashion !  Every 
thing  that  he  has  written  is  very  clever.*  Are  you 
acquainted  with  his  epigram  on  Miss  Tree  (Mrs. 
Bradshaw)  ?  it  is  quite  a  little  fairy  tale  : — 

"  On  this  tree  when  a  nightingale  settles  and  sings, 
The  tree  will  return  her  as  good  as  she  brings." 

Luttrell  is  indeed  a  most  pleasant  companion. 
JSTone  of  the  talkers  whom  I  meet  in  London  society 
can  slide  in  a  brilliant  thing  with  such  readiness  as 
he  does. 

I  was  one  day  not  a  little  surprised  at  being  told 
by  Moore  that  in  consequence  of  the  article  on  his 

*  See  his  Letters  to  Julia  and  Crockfwd  House. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF   SAMUEL   ROGERS.  277 

Poetns  in  The  Edinburgh  Review  *  he  had  called  out 
Jeffrey,  who  at  that  time  was  in  London.  He  asked 
me  to  lend  him  a  pair  of  pistols :  I  said,  and  truly, 
that  I  had  none.f  Moore  then  went  to  William 
Spencer  to  borrow  pistols,  and  to  talk  to  him  about 
the  duel ;  and  Spencer,  who  was  delighted  with  this 
confidence,,  did  not  fail  to  blab  the  matter  to  Lord 
Fincastle,  £  and  also,  I  believe,  to  some  women  of 
rank.  I  was  at  Spencer's  house  in  the  forenoon, 
anxious  to  learn  the  issue  of  the  duel,  when  a  mes 
senger  arrived  with  the  tidings  that  Moore  and 
Jeffrey  were  in  custody,  and  with  a  request  from 
Moore  that  Spencer  would  bail  him.  Spencer  did 
not  seem  much  inclined  to  do  so,  remarking  that 
"  he  could  not  well  go  out,  for  it  was  already  twelve 
c? clock,  and  he  had  to  be  dressed  ~by  four  !  "  So  I 
went  to  Bow  Street  and  bailed  Moore.  §  The  ques- 

*  Vol.  viii.  456.— ED. 

|  "  William  Spencer  being  the  only  one  of  all  my  friends  whom  I 
thought  likely  to  furnish  me  with  these  sine-qua-nons  [pistols],  I 
hastened  to  confide  to  him  my  wants,"  <fec.  Moore's  Memoirs,  &c. 
vol.  i.  202.  But  Moore's  recollection  of  the  particulars  connected 
with  the  duel  was  somewhat  imperfect :  see  the  next  note  hut  one. 
—ED. 

£  Afterwards  Lord  Dunmore. — ED. 

§  "  Though  I  had  sent  for  William  Spencer,  I  am  not  quite  sure 


278  EECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

tion  now  was,  whether  Moore  and  Jeffrey  should 
fight  or  not.  I  secretly  consulted  General  Fitz- 
patrick,  who  gave  it  as  his  decided  opinion  that 
;i  Mr.  Jeffrey  was  not  called  upon  to  accept  a  second 
challenge,"  insinuating,  of  course,  that  Moore  was 
bound  to  send  one.  I  took  care  not  to  divulge  what 
the  General  had  said :  and  the  poet  and  critic  were 
eventually  reconciled  by  means  of  Horner  and  my 
self:  they  shook  hands  with  each  other  in  the  garden 
behind  my  house. 

So  heartily  has  Moore  repented  of  having  pub 
lished  Little's  Poems,  that  I  have  seen  him  shed 
tears — tears  of  deep  contrition — when  we  were 
talking  of  them. 

Young  ladies  read  his  Lalla  Rookh  without  being 
aware  (I  presume)  of  the  grossness  of  TJie  Veiled 
Prophet.  These  lines  by  Mr.  Sneyd  are  amusing 
enough : 

"  Lalla  Rookh 

Is  a  naughty  book 

By  Tommy  Moore, 

Who  has  written  four, 

that  it  was  he  that  acted  as  my  bail,  or  whether  it  was  not  Rogers 
that  so  officiated.  I  am,  however,  certain  that  the  latter  joined  us  at 
the  office,"  &c.  Moore's  Memoirs,  &c.  vol.  i.  205. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  279 

Each  warmer 
Than  the  former, 
So  the  most  recent 
Is  the  least  decent." 

Moore  borrowed  from  me  Lord  Thru-low's  Poems, 
and  forthwith  wrote  that  ill-natured  article  on  them 
in  The  Edinburgh  Review*  It  made  me  angry;  for 
Lord  Thurlow,  with  all  his  eccentricity,  was  a  man 
of  genius :  but  the  public  chose  to  laugh  at  him,  and 
Moore,  who  always  follows  the  world's  opinion,  of 
course  did  so  too.  I  like  Lord  Thurlow's  verses  on 
Sidney.f 

*  Vol.  xxiii.  411.— ED. 

•{•  I  know  not  which  of  Lord  Thurlow's  pieces  on  Sidney  (for  there 
are  several)  was  alluded  to  by  Mr.  Rogers.  One  of  them  is, — On 
beholding  the  portraiture  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney  in  the  gallery  at  Penshurst ; 

"  The  man  that  looks,  sweet  Sidney,  in  thy  face, 
Beholding  there  love's  truest  majesty, 
And  the  soft  image  of  departed  grace, 
Shall  fill  his  mind  with  magnanimity  : 
There  may  he  read  unfeign'd  humility, 
And  golden  pity,  born  of  heavenly  brood, 
Unsullied  thoughts  of  immortality, 
And  musing  virtue,  prodigal  of  blood  : 
Yes,  in  this  map  of  what  is  fair  and  good, 
This  glorious  index  of  a  heavenly  book, 
Not  seldom,  as  in  youthful  years  he  stood, 
Divine st  Spenser  would  admiring  look ; 


280  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE 

Moore  once  said  to  me,  "  I  am  much  fonder  of 
reading  works  in  prose  than  in  verse."  I  replied, 
"  I  should  have  known  so  from  your  writings ;"  and 
I  meant  the  words  as  a  compliment — his  best  poems 
are  quite  original. 

Moore  is  a  very  worthy  man,  but  not  a  little  im 
provident.  His  excellent  wife  contrives  to  maintain 
the  whole  family  on  a  guinea  a-week ;  and  he,  when 
in  London,  thinks  nothing  of  throwing  away  that 
sum  weekly  on  hackney-coaches  and  gloves.  I  said 
to  him,  "  You  must  have  made  ten  thousand  pounds 
by  your  musical  publications."  He  replied,  "  More 
than  that."  In  short,  he  has  received  for  his  various 
works  nearly  thirty  thousand  pounds.  When,  owing 
to  the  state  of  his  affairs,  he  found  it  necessary  to 
retire  for  a  while,  I  advised  him  to  make  Holyrood 
House  his  refuge  :  there  he  could  have  lived  cheaply 
and  comfortably,  with  permission  to  walk  about  un 
molested  every  Sunday,  when  he  might  have  dined 
with  Walter  Scott  or  Jeffrey.  But  he  would  go  to 

And,  framing  thence  high  wit  and  pure  desire, 
Imagin'd  deeds  that  set  the  world  on  fire." — 

Let  me  add,  that  Lord  Thurlow's  sonnet  To  a  bird  that  haunt,ed  the 
waters  of  Laken  in  the  ivinter  was  a  favourite  with  Charles  Lamb. — 
ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS .  281 

Paris;  and  there  lie  spent  about  a  thousand  a- 
year. 

At  the  time  when  Moore  was  struggling  with 
his  grief  for  the  loss  of  his  children,  he  said  to  me, 
"  What  a  wonderful  man  that  Shakespeare  is !  how 
perfectly  I  now  feel  the  truth  of  his  words, — 

"  And  if  I  laugh  at  any  mortal  thing, 
'Tis  that  I  may  not  weep  !  " 

I  happened  to  repeat  to  Mrs.  N.  what  Moore  had 
said ;  upon  which  she  observed,  "  Why,  the  passage 
is  not  Shakespeare's,  but  Byron's."  And  sure  enough 
we  found  it  in  Don  Juan.*  Another  lady,  who  was 
present,  having  declared  that  she  did  not  understand 
it,  I  said,  "  I  will  give  you  an  illustration  of  it.  A 
friend  of  mine  was  chiding  his  daughter.  She 
laughed.  i  Now,'  continued  the  father,  '  you  make 

*  C.  iv.  4.  (Moore  had  forgotten  that  he  had  quoted  the  passage 
as  Byron's  in  his  Life  of  Byron). — Richardson  had  said  the  same  thing 
long  ago : — "  Indeed,  it  is  to  this  deep  concern  that  my  levity  is 
owing :  for  I  struggle  and  struggle,  and  try  to  buffet  down  my  cruel 
reflections  as  they  rise  :  and  when  I  cannot,  /  am  forced,  as  I  have 
often  said,  to  try  to  make  myself  laugh,  that  I  may  not  cry ;  for  one  or 
other  I  must  do  :  and  is  it  not  philosophy  carried  to  the  highest  pitch, 
for  a  man  to  conquer  such  tumults  of  soul  as  I  am  sometimes  agitated 
by,  and,  in  the  very  height  of  the  storm,  to  be  able  to  quaver  out  an 
horse-laugh  ?  "  Clarissa  Harlowe,  Letter  84,  vol.  vii.  319. — ED. 


282  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    Til  JO 

matters  worse  by  laughing.'  She  then  burst  into 
tears,  exclaiming,  '  If  I  do  not  laugh,  I  must  cry.' " 
Moore  has  now  taken  to  an  amusement  which  is 
very  well  suited  to  the  fifth  act  of  life ; — he  plays 
cribbage  every  night  with  Mrs.  Moore. 


In  the  Memoir  of  Gary  by  his  son,  Coleridge  is 
said  to  have  first  become  acquainted  with  Gary's 
Dante  when  he  met  the  translator  at  Little  Hamp 
ton.  But  that  is  a  mistake.  Moore  mentioned  the 
work  to  me  with  great  admiration ;  I  mentioned  it 
to  Wordsworth ;  *  and  he  to  Coleridge,  who  had 
never  heard  of  it  till  then,  and  who  forthwith  read  it. 

I  was  present  at  that  lecture  by  Coleridge,  dur 
ing  which  he  spoke  of  Gary's  Dante  in  high  terms 
of  praise  :  there  were  about  a  hundred  and  twenty 
persons  in  the  room.  But  I  doubt  if  that  did  much 
towards  making  it  known.  It  owes  some  of  its  ce 
lebrity  to  me  ;  for  the  article  on  Dante  in  The  Edin 
burgh  JKeview^  which  was  written  by  Foscolo,  has 
very  considerable  additions  by  Mackintosh,  and  a 

*  Wordsworth  once  remarked  to  me,  "  It  is  a  disgrace  to  the  age 
that  Gary  has  no  church-preferment ;  I  think  his  translation  of  Dante 
a  great  national  work." — ED. 

f  Vol.  xxix.  453.— ED. 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS. 

few  by  myself.  Gary  was  aware  (though,  his  biog 
rapher  evidently  is  not)  that  I  had  written  a  por 
tion  of  that  article ;  yet  he  never  mentioned  it  to 
me :  perhaps  there  was  something  in  it  which  he 
did  not  like. 

On  the  resignation  of  Baber,  chief  librarian  at 
the  British  Museum,  I  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Arch 
bishop  of  Canterbury,  urging  Gary's  claim  to  fill  the 
vacant  place.*  The  Archbishop  replied,  that  his 
only  reason  for  not  giving  Gary  his  vote  was  the 
unfortunate  circumstance  of  Gary's  having  been 
more  than  once,  in  consequence  of  domestic  calam 
ities,  afflicted  with  temporary  alienation  of  mind,  f 
I  had  quite  forgotten  this ;  and  I  immediately  wrote 
again  to  the  Archbishop,  saying  that  I  now  agreed 
with  him  concerning  Gary's  unfitness  for  the  situa 
tion.  I  also,  as  delicately  as  I  could,  touched  on 
the  subject  to  Gary  himself,  telling  him  that  the 
place  was  not  suited  for  him. 

*  Gary,  as  assistant-librarian,  stood  next  in  succession. — ED. 

f  It  appears,  however,  from  the  Memoir  of  Cary  by  his  son  (vol. 
ii.  285),  that  afterwards,  the  Archbishop,  in  consequence  of  a  medical 
certificate  of  Gary's  fitness  for  the  office,  was  desirous  that  he  should 
be  appointed,  "  but  could  not  prevail  on  his  co-trustees  to  concur  with 
him." — ED. 


284 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 


After  another  gentleman  had  been  appointed 
Baber's  successor,  the  trustees  of  the  Museum  re 
commended  Gary  to  the  Government  for  a  pension, 
— which  they  seemed  resolved  not  to  grant ;  and  I 
made  more  than  one  earnest  application  to  them 
in  his  behalf.  At  last  Lord  Melbourne  sent  Lord 
E.  to  me  with  a  message  that  "  there  was  very  little 
money  to  dispose  of,  but  that  Gary  should  have  100Z. 
per  annum."  I  replied  that  "  it  was  so  small  a  sum, 
that  I  did  not  choose  to  mention  the  offer  to  Gary ; 
and  that,  as  soon  as  Sir  Robert  Peel  came  into 
office,  I  should  apply  to  him  for  a  larger  sum,  with 
confident  hopes  of  better  success."  Lord  Mel 
bourne  then  let  me  know  that  Gary  should  have 
2001.  a-year  ;  which  I  accepted  for  him. 

Gary  never  forgave  me  for  my  conduct  in  the 
Museum  business ;  and  never  afterwards  called  upon 
me.  But  I  met  him  one  day  in  the  Park,  when  he 
said  (much  to  his  credit,  considering  his  decided 
political  opinions)  that  "  he  was  better  pleased  to 
receive  200Z.  a-year  from  Lord  Melbourne  than 
double  the  sum  from  Sir  Robert  Peel." 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  285 

Visiting  Lady one  day,  I  made  inquiries 

about  her  sister.  "  She  is  now  staying  with  me," 
answered  Lady  -  — ,  "  but  she  is  unwell  in  conse 
quence  of  a  fright  which  she  got  on  her  way  from 
Richmond  to  London."  At  that  time  omnibuses 
were  great  rarities ;  and  while  Miss was  com 
ing  to  town,  the  footman,  observing  an  omnibus 
approach,  and  thinking  that  she  might  like  to  see  it, 
suddenly  called  in  at  the  carriage-window,  "  Ma'am, 

the  omnibus  ! "    Miss ,  being  unacquainted  with 

the  term,  and  not  sure  but  an  omnibus  might  be  a 
wild  beast  escaped  from  the  Zoological  Gardens, 
was  thrown  into  a  dreadful  state  of  agitation  by  the 
announcement. 


I  think  Sheridan  Knowles  by  far  the  best  writer 
of  plays  since  those  whom  we  call  our  old  dramatists. 
— Macready's  performance  of  Tell  (in  Knowles's 
William  Tell}  is  first-rate.  No  actor  ever  aifected 
me  more  than  Macready  did  in  some  scenes  of  that 
play. 


Words  cannot  do  justice  to  Theodore  Hook's 
talent  for  improvisation :  it  was  perfectly  wonderful. 


286  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

He  was  one  day  sitting  at  the  pianoforte,  singing  an 
extempore  song  as  fluently  as  if  he  had  had  the 
words  and  music  before  him,  when  Moore  happened 
to  look  into  the  room,  and  Hook  instantly  intro 
duced  a  long  parenthesis, 

"  And  here's  Mr.  Moore, 
Peeping  in  at  the  door,  &c." — 

The  last  time  I  saw  Hook  was  in  the  lobby  of  Lord 
Canterbury's  house  after  a  large  evening  party  there. 
He  was  walking  up  and  down,  singing  with  great 
gravity,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  footmen,  "  Shep 
herds,  I  have  lost  my  hat" 


"When  Erskine  was  made  Lord  Chancellor,  Lady 
Holland  never  rested  till  she  prevailed  on  him  to 
give  Sidney  Smith  a  living.*  Smith  went  to  thank 
him  for  the  appointment.  "Oh,"  said  Erskine, 
"don't  thank  me,  Mr.  Smith.  I  gave  you  the  living 
because  Lady  Holland  insisted  on  my  doing  so : 
and  if  she  had  desired  me  to  give  it  to  the  devil,  he 
must  have  had  it." 

*  The  living  of  Foston-le-Clay  in  Yorkshire. — ED. 


TABLE-TALK   OF    SAMUEL   KOGEKS.  287 

At  one  time,  when  I  gave  a  dinner,  I  used  to 
have  candles  placed  all  round  the  dining-room,  and 
high  up,  in  order  to  show  off  the  pictures.  I  asked 
Smith  how  he  liked  that  plan.  "  Not  at  all,"  he 
replied;  "above,  there  is  a  blaze  of  light,  and  below, 
nothing  but  darkness  and  gnashing  of  teeth." 

He  said  that  —  -  was  so  fond  of  contradiction, 
that  he  would  throw  up  the  window  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  and  contradict  the  watchman  who  was 
calling  the  hour. 

"When  his  physician  advised  him  to  "  take  a  walk 
upon  an  empty  stomach,"  Smith  asked,  "  Upon 
whose  ? " 

"  Lady  Cork,"  said  Smith,  "was  once  so  moved 
by  a  charity  sermon,  that  she  begged  me  to  lend  her 
a  guinea  for  her  contribution.  I  did  so.  She  never 
repaid  me,  and  spent  it  on  herself." 

He  said  that  "  Ms  idea  of  heaven  was  eating  fois 
gras  to  the  sound  of  trumpets."* 

"  I  had  a  very  odd  dream  last  night,"  said  he ; 
"  I  dreamed  that  there  were  thirty-nine  Muses  and 

*  It  must  not  be  supposed  from  this  and  other  such-like  quaint 
fancies,  in  which  he  occasionally  indulged,  that  Smith's  wit  had  any 
mixture  of  profaneness  : — he  certainly  never  intended  to  treat  sacred 
things  with  levity. — ED. 


288  RECOLLECTIONS    OF   THE 

nine  Articles  :  and  my  head  is  still  quite  confused 
about  them." 

Smith  said,  "  The  Bishop  of  is  so  like 

Judas,  that  I  now  firmly  believe  in  the  Apostolical 
Succession." 

Witty  as  Smith  was,  I  have  seen  him  at  my 
own  house  absolutely  overpowered  by  the  superior 
facetiousness  of  William  Bankes. 


Speaking  to  me  of  Buonaparte,  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  remarked,  that  in  one  respect  he  was 
superior  to  all  the  generals  who  had  ever  existed. 
"Was  it,"  I  asked,  "in  the  management  and  skilful 
arrangement  of  his  troops  ? "  "  No,"  answered  the 
Duke  ;  "it  was  in  his  power  of  concentrating  such 
vast  masses  of  men — a  most  important  point  in  the 
art  of  war." 

"  I  have  found,"  said  the  Duke,  "that  raw  troops, 
however  inferior  to  the  old  ones  in  manoeuvring,  are 
far  superior  to  them  in  downright  hard  fighting  with 
the  enemy :  at  Waterloo,  the  young  ensigns  and 
lieutenants,  who  had  never  before  seen  a  battle, 
rushed  to  meet  death  as  if  they  had  been  playing  at 
cricket." 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL    ROGERS.  289 

The  Duke  thinks  very  highly  of  Napier's  History : 
its  only  fault,  he  says,  is — that  Napier  is  sometimes 
apt  to  convince  himself  that  a  thing  must  be  true, 
because  he  wishes  to  believe  it.  Of  Southey's  History 
he  merely  said,  "I  don't  think  much  of  it" 

Of  the  Duke's  perfect  coolness  on  the  most  try 
ing  occasions,  Colonel  Gurwood  gave  me  this  in 
stance.  He  was  once  in  great  danger  of  being 
drowned  at  sea.  It  was  bed-time,  when  the  captain 
of  the  vessel  came  to  him,  and  said,  "  It  will  soon 
be  all  over  with  us."  "  Yery  well,"  answered  the 
Duke,  "  then  I  shall  not  take  off  my  boots." 

Some  years  ago,  walking  with  the  Duke  in  Hyde 
Park,  I  observed,  "  What  a  powerful  band  Lord 
John  Russell  will  have  to  contend  with !  there's  Peel, 
Lord  Stanley,  Sir  James  Graham,"  &c.  The  Duke 
interrupted  me  by  saying,  "  Lord  John  Russell  is  a 
host  in  himself." — It  is  mainly  to  the  noble  consist 
ency  of  his  whole  career  that  Lord  John  owes  the 
high  place  which  he  holds  in  the  estimation  of  the 
people. 

The  Duke  says  that  the  Lord's  Prayer  alone  is 
an  evidence  of  the  truth  of  Christianity — so  admir 
ably  is  that  prayer  accommodated  to  all  our  wants. 
13 


TABLE-TALK    OF    SAMUEL   KOGEKS. 

I  took  the  Sacrament  with,  the  Duke  at  Strathfield- 
saye ;  and  nothing  could  be  more  striking  than  his 
unaffected  devotion. 


When  I  was  at  Paris,  I  went  to  Alexis,  and  de 
sired  him  to  describe  to  me  my  house  in  St.  James's 
Place.  On  my  word,  he  astonished  me !  He  de 
scribed  most  exactly  the  peculiarities  of  the  stair 
case — said  that  not  far  from  the  window  in  the 
drawing-room  there  was  a  picture  of  a  man  in 
armour  (the  painting  by  Giorgone),  &c.  &c. 

Colonel  Gurwood,  shortly  before  his  death,  as 
sured  me  that  he  was  reminded  by  Alexis  of  some 
circumstances  which  had  happened  to  him  in  Spain, 
and  which  he  could  not  conceive  how  any  human 
being,  except  himself,  should  know. 

Still,  I  cannot  believe  in  clairvoyance — because 
the  thing  is  impossible. 


PORSONIANA. 


THE  following  anecdotes  of  Person*  were  communicated 
to  me,  in  conversation,  at  various  times,  by  the  late  Mr. 
William  Maltby, — the  schoolfellow,  and,  throughout  life, 
the  most  confidential  friend  of  Mr.  Rogers. 

In  his  youth  Mr.  Maltby  was  entered  at  Cambridge, 
and  resided  there  for  some  time :  he,  however,  left  the 
university  without  taking  a  degree.  He  afterwards  prac 
tised  as  a  solicitor  in  London.  On  the  decease  of  Person, 
he  obtained  an  employment  more  suited  to  his  tastes  and 
habits  than  the  profession  of  the  law  : — in  1809  he  suc 
ceeded  that  celebrated  man  as  Principal  Librarian  to  the 
London  Institution ;  and,  during  the  long  period  of  his 
holding  the  office,  he  greatly  improved  the  library  by  the 
numerous  judicious  purchases  which  were  made  at  his 

*  Notices  of  Person  have  already  occurred  in  this  volume  :  see  pp. 
79,  134,  217,  218,  219.— ED; 


294: 


suggestion.  In  1834  he  was  superannuated  from  all 
duty  :  but  he  still  continued  to  occupy  apartments  in  the 
Institution ;  and  there  he  died,  towards  the  close  of  his 
ninetieth  year,  January  5th,  1854. 

In  Greek  and  Latin  Mr.  Maltby  was  what  is  called  a 
fair  scholar  :  he  was  well  read  in  Italian ;  his  acquaintance 
with  French  and  English  literature  was  most  extensive  and 
accurate;  in  a  knowledge  of  bibliography  he  has  been 
surpassed  by  few :  and  the  wonder  was  (as  Mr.  Rogers 
used  frequently  to  observe)  that,  with  all  his  devotion  to 
study,  and  with  all  his  admiration  of  the  makers  of  books, 
he  should  never  have  come  before  the  public  in  the  char 
acter  of  an  author. 

EDITOE. 


PORSONIAIA. 


I  FIRST  saw  Person  at  the  sale  of  Toup's  library  in 
1784,  and  was  introduced  to  him  soon  after.  I  was 
on  the  most  intimate  terms  with  him  for  the  last 
twenty  years  of  his  life.  In  spite  of  all  his  faults 
and  failings,  it  was  impossible  not  to  admire  his  in 
tegrity  and  his  love  of  truth. 

Porson  declared  that  he  learned  nothing  while 
a  schoolboy  at  Eton.  "  Before  I  went  there,"  he 
said,  "I  could  nearly  repeat  by  heart  all  the  books 
which  we  used  to  read  in  the  schools."  The  only 
thing  in  his  Eton  course  which  he  recollected  with 
pleasure  was — rat-hunting !  he  used  to  talk  with 
delight  of  the  rat-hunts  in  the  Long  Hall. 


296  POKSONIANA. 

During  the  earlier  part  of  his  career,  he  accepted 
the  situation  of  tutor  to  a  young  gentleman  in  the 
Isle  of  Wight ;  but  he  was  soon  forced  to  relinquish 
that  office,  in  consequence  of  having  been  found 
drunk  in  a  ditch  or  a  turnip-field. 

The  two  persons  to  whom  Porson  had  the  great 
est  obligations  were  Sir  George  Baker,  and  Dr.  Ship 
ley,  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph.  Sir  George  once  ventured 
to  chide  him  for  his  irregularities — a  liberty  which 
Porson  resented,  and  never  forgave,*  though  he  owed 
Sir  George  so  much. 

Porter  was  his  favourite  beverage  at  breakfast. 
One  Sunday  morning  meeting  Dr.  Goodall  (Provost 
of  Eton),  he  said,  "Where  are  you  going?"  "To 
church."  "  Where  is  Mrs.  Goodall  ? "  "  At  break 
fast."  "  Very  well ;  I'll  go  and  breakfast  with  her." 
Porson  accordingly  presented  himself  before  Mrs, 
Goodall ;  and  being  asked  what  he  chose  to  take,  he 
said  "porter."  It  was  sent  for,  pot  after  pot ;  and 
the  sixth  pot  was  just  being  carried  into  the  house 
when  Dr.  Goodall  returned  from  church. 

*  This  seems  to  account  for  the  statement  in  Beloe's  Sexagenarian 
(i.  234),  viz.  that  Porson  "  all  at  once  ceased  to  go  to  Sir  George 
Baker's  house,  and  from  what  motive  Sir  George  always  avowed  him 
self  ignorant." — ED. 


POESONIANA.  297 

At  one  period  of  his  life  he  was  in  such  strait 
ened  circumstances,  that  he  would  go  without  dinner 
for  a  couple  of  days.  However,  when  a  dinner  came 
in  his  way,  he  would  eat  very  heartily  (mutton 
was  his  favourite  dish),  and  lay  in,  as  he  used  to 
say,  a  stock  of  provisions.  He  has  subsisted  for  three 
weeks  upon  a  guinea. 

Sometimes,  at  a  later  period,  when  he  was  able 
enough  to  pay  for  a  dinner,  he  chose,  in  a  fit  of  ab 
stinence,  to  go  without  one.  I  have  asked  him  to 
stay  and  dine  with  me ;  and  he  has  replied,  "  Thank 
you,  no  ;  I  dined  yesterday." 

At  dinner,  and  after  it,  he  preferred  port  to  any 
other  wine.  He  disliked  both  tea  and  coffee. 

Porson  would  sit  up  drinking  all  night,  without 
seeming  to  feel  any  bad  effects  from  it.  Home 
Tooke  told  me  that  he  once  asked  Porson  to  dine 
with  him  in  Richmond  Buildings ;  and,  as  he  knew 
that  Porson  had  not  been  in  bed  for  the  three  pre 
ceding  nights,  he  expected  to  get  rid  of  him  at  a 
tolerably  early  hour.  Porson,  however,  kept  Tooke 
up  the  whole  night :  and  in  the  morning,  the  latter, 
in  perfect  despair,  said,  "  Mr.  Porson,  I  am  engaged 
to  meet  a  friend  at  breakfast  at  a  coffee-house  IB 
13* 


298  PORSONIANA. 

Leicester  Square."  "  Oh,"  replied  Person,  "  I  will 
go  with  you;"  and  he  accordingly  did  so.  Soon 
after  they  had  reached  the  coffee-house,  Tooke  con 
trived  to  slip  out,  and  running  home,  ordered  his 
servant  not  to  let  Mr.  Porson  in,  even  if  he  should 
attempt  to  batter  down  the  door.  "  A  man,"  ob 
served  Tooke,  "who  could  sit  up  four  nights  succes 
sively  might  have  sat  up  forty."  * 

Tooke  used  to  say  that  "Porson  would  drink  ink 
rather  than  not  drink  at  all."  Indeed,  he  would 
drink  any  thing.  He  was  sitting  with  a  gentleman, 
after  dinner,  in  the  chambers  of  a  mutual  friend,  a 
Templar,  who  was  then  ill  and  confined  to  bed.  A 
servant  came  into  the  room,  sent  thither  by  his  mas 
ter  for  a  bottle  of  embrocation  which  was  on  the 
chimney-piece.  "I  drank  it  an  hour  ago,"  said 
Porson. 

When  Hoppner  the  painter  was  residing  in  a 

*  In  Stephens's  Memoirs  of  Home  Tooke,  vol.  ii.  315,  is  an  account 
of  Person's  rudeness  to  Tooke  while  dining  with  him  one  day  at  Wim 
bledon,  and  of  Tooke's  silencing  and  triumphing  over  him  hy  making 
him  dead  drunk  with  brandy ;  on  which  occasion  "some  expressions 
of  a  disagreeable  nature  are  said  to  have  occurred  at  table." — At  that 
dinner  Tooke  (as  he  told  Mr.  Maltby)  asked  Porson  for  a  toast ;  and 
Porson  replied,  "  I  will  give  you — the  man  who  is  in  all  respects  the 
very  reverse  of  John  Horne  Tooke." — ED. 


PORSONIANA.  299 

cottage  a  few  miles  from  London,  Porson,  one  af 
ternoon,  unexpectedly  arrived  there.  Hoppner  said 
that  he  could  not  offer  him  dinner,  as  Mrs.  H.  had 
gone  to  town,  and  had  carried  with  her  the  key  of 
the  closet  which  contained  the  wine.  Porson,  how 
ever,  declared  that  he  would  be  content  with  a 
mutton-chop,  and  beer  from  the  next  alehouse  ;  and 
accordingly  staid  to  dine.  During  the  evening  Por 
son  said,  "  I  am  quite  certain  that  Mrs.  Hoppner 
keeps  some  nice  bottle,  for  her  private  drinking,  in 
her  own  bedroom  ;  so  pray,  try  if  you  can  lay  your 
hands  on  it."  His  host  assured  him  that  Mrs.  H. 
had  no  such  secret  stores  ;  but  Porson  insisting  that 
a  search  should  be  made,  a  bottle  was  at  last  dis 
covered  in  the  lady's  apartment,  to  the  surprise  of 
Hoppner,  and  the  joy  of  Porson,  who  soon  finished 
its  contents,  pronouncing  it  to  be  the  best  gin  he 
had  tasted  for  a  long  time.  Next  day.  Hoppner, 
somewhat  out  of  temper,  informed  his  wife  that 
Porson  had  drunk  every  drop  of  her  concealed  dram. 
"  Drunk  every  drop  of  it!  "  cried  she,  "  my  God,  it 
was  spirits  of  wine  for  the  lamp  !  " 

A  brother  of  Bishop  Maltby  invited  Porson  and 
myself  to  spend  the  evening  at  his  house,  and  se- 


300  PORSONIANA. 

cretly  requested  me  to  take  Person  away,  if  pos 
sible,  before  the  morning  hours.  Accordingly,  at 
twelve  o'clock  I  held  up  my  watch  to  Porson,  saying, 
"  I  think  it  is  now  full  time  for  us  to  go  home  ; " 
and  the  host,  of  course,  not  pressing  us  to  remain 
longer,  away  we  went.  When  we  got  into  the  street, 
Person's  indignation  burst  forth ;  "I  hate,"  he  said, 
"  to  be  turned  out  of  doors  like  a  dog." 

At  the  house  of  the  same  gentleman  I  introduced 
Cogan  to  Porson,  saying,  "This  is  Mr.  Cogan,*  who 
is  passionately  fond  of  what  you  have  devoted  your 
self  to, — Greek."  Porson  replied,  "  If  Mr.  Cogan 
is  passionately  fond  of  Greek,  he  must  be  content 
to  dine  on  bread  and  cheese  for  the  remainder  of 
his  life." 

Gurney  (the  Baron)  had  chambers  in  Essex 
Court,  Temple,  under  Person's.  One  night  (or 
rather,  morning)  Gurney  was  awakened  by  a  tre 
mendous  thump  in  the  chambers  above.  Porson 
had  just  come  home  dead  drunk,  and  had  fallen  on 
the  floor.  Having  extinguished  his  candle  in  the 

*  Not  the  Bath  physician  and  author  Thomas  Cogan, — but  Eliezer 
Cogan,  a  dissenting  clergyman  who  kept  a  school  at  Walthamstow, 
and  published  Moschi  Idyllw  tria  with  Latin  notes,  some  /Sermons,  &c. 
—ED. 


PORSONIANA.  301 

fall,  lie  presently  staggered  down  stairs  to  relight 
tt ;  and  Gurney  heard  him  keep  dodging  and  poking 
with  the  candle  at  the  stair-case  lamp  for  about  five 
minutes,  and  all  the  while  very  lustily  cursing  the 
nature  of  things. 

Person  was  fond  of  smoking,  and  said  that  when 
smoking  began  to  go  out  of  fashion,  learning  began 
to  go  out  of  fashion  also. 

He  was  generally  ill-dressed  and  dirty.  But  I 
never  saw  him  such  a  figure  as  he  was  one  day  at 
Leigh  and  Sotheby's  auction-room ;  he  evidently 
had  been  rolling  in  the  kennel ;  and,  on  inquiry,  I 
found  that  he  was  just  come  from  a  party  (at  Rob 
ert  Heathcote's,  I  believe),  with  whom  he  had  been 
sitting  up  drinking  for  two  nights. 

One  forenoon  I  met  Porson  in  Covent  Garden, 
dressed  in  a  pea-green  coat :  he  had  been  married  * 
that  morning,  as  I  afterwards  learned  from  Raine, 
for  he  himself  said  nothing  about  it.  He  was  car 
rying  a  copy  of  Le  Moyen  de  JParvenir,  which  he 
had  just  purchased  off  a  stall;  and  holding  it  up, 

*  "  In  1795,  R.  P.  married  Mrs.  Lunan,  who  sunk  under  a  decline 
in  1797."  Kidd's  Life  of  Porson,  p.  xv.  She  was  sister  to  Perry,  editor 
of  The  Morning  Chronicle. — En. 


302  PORSONIANA. 

he  called  out  jokingly,  "These  are  the  sort  of  books 
to  buy ! " 

"  I  was  occupied  two  years,"  said  Porson,  "  in 
composing  the  Letters  to  Trams :  I  received  thirty 
pounds  for  them  from  Egerton  ;  and  I  am  glad  to 
find  that  he  lost  sixteen  by  the  publication."  He 
once  talked  of  writing  an  Appendix  to  that  work. — 
In  his  later  years  he  used  to  regret  that  he  had  de 
voted  so  much  time  to  the  study  of  theology. 

Soon  after  the  Letters  to  Trams  were  published, 
Gibbon  wrote  a  note  to  Porson,  requesting  the  plea 
sure  of  his  acquaintance.  Porson  accordingly  called 
upon  the  great  historian,  who  received  him  with  all 
kindness  and  respect.  In  the  course  of  conversation- 
Gibbon  said,  "  Mr.  Porson,  I  feel  truly  indebted  to 
you  for  the  Letters  to  Travis,  though  I  must  think 
that  occasionally,  while  praising  me,  you  have  min 
gled  a  little  acid  with  the  sweet.  If  ever  you  should 
take  the  trouble  to  read  my  History  over  again,  I 
should  be  much  obliged  and  honoured  by  any  re 
marks  on  it  which  might  suggest  themselves  to  you. ' 
Porson  was  highly  flattered  by  Gibbon's  having  re 
quested  this  interview,  and  loved  to  talk  of  it.  He 
thought  the  Decline  and  Fall  beyond  all  compari- 


PORSONIANA.  303 

son  the  greatest  literary  production  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  was  in  the  habit  of  repeating  long  pas 
sages  from  it.  Yet  I  have  heard  him  say  that 
"  there  could  not  be  a  better  exercise  for  a  school 
boy  than  to  turn  a  page  of  it  into  English" 

When  the  Letters  to  Travis  first  appeared,  Ren- 
nell  said  to  me,  "  It  is  just  such  a  book  as  the  devil 
would  write,  if  he  could  hold  a  pen." 

As  soon  as  Gibbon's  Autobiography  and  Miscel 
laneous  Works  came  out,  they  were  eagerly  de 
voured  both  by  Porson  and  myself.  Neither  of  us 
could  afford  to  purchase  the  quarto  edition ;  so  we 
bought  the  Dublin  reprint  in  octavo. 

There  wTas  no  cordiality  between  Porson  and 
Jacob  Bryant,  for  they  thought  very  differently  not 
only  on  the  subject  of  Troy,  but  on  most  other  sub 
jects.  Bryant  used  to  abuse  Porson  behind  his 
back ;  and  one  day,  when  he  was  violently  attacking 
his  character,  the  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  Dr.  Douglas, 
said  to  him,  "  Mr.  Bryant,  you  are  speaking  of  a 
great  man;  and  you  should  remember,  sir,  that 
even  the  greatest  men  are  not  without  their  fail 
ings."  Cleaver  Banks,  who  was  present  on  that 
occasion,  remarked  to  me,  "  I  shall  always  think 


304  POESONIANA. 

well  of  the  Bishop  for  his  generous  defence  of  our 
friend." 

Person  was  sometimes  very  rude  in  society. 
My  relation,  Dr.  Maltby  (Bishop  of  Durham),  once 
invited  him  to  meet  Paley  at  dinner.  Paley  arrived 
first.  When  Porson  (who  had  never  before  seen  him) 
came  into  the  room,  he  seated  himself  in  an  arm 
chair,  and  looking  very  hard  at  Paley,  said,  "I  am 
entitled  to  this  chair,  being  president  of  a  society  for 
the  discovery  of  truth,  of  which  I  happen  at  present  to 
be  the  only  member."  These  words  were  levelled  at 
certain  political  opinions  broached  in  Paley's  works. 

I  have  often  wondered  that  Porson  did  not  get 
into  scrapes  in  those  days,  when  it  was  so  dangerous 
to  express  violent  political  feelings  :  he  would  think 
nothing  of  toasting  "Jack  Cade"  at  a  tavern,  when 
he  was  half-seas-over. 

One  day  after  dinner,  at  Clayton  Jennings 's 
house,  Captain  Ash,  who  was  always  ready  to  warble, 
burst  out,  as  usual,  with  a  song.  Now,  Porson  hated 
singing  after  dinner ;  and,  while  Ash  was  in  the 
middle  of  his  song,  an  ass  happening  to  bray  in  the 
street,  Porson  interrupted  the  Captain  with,  "  Sir, 
you  have  a  rival." 


POKSONIANA.  305 

He  used  frequently  to  regret  that  he  had  not 
gone  to  America  in  his  youth  and  settled  there.  I 
said,  "What  would  you  have  done  without  books? " 
He  answered,  "  I  should  have  done  without  them." 

At  one  time  he  had  some  thoughts  of  taking 
orders,  and  studied  divinity  for  a  year  or  two.  "  But," 
said  he,  "  I  found  that  I  should  require  about  fifty 
years'  reading  to  make  myself  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  it — to  satisfy  my  mind  on  all  points,  and  there 
fore  I  gave  it  up.  There  are  fellows  who  go  into  a 
pulpit,  assuming  every  thing,  and  knowing  nothing : 
but  /would  not  do  so." 

He  said  that  every  man  ought  to  marry  once.  I 
observed  that  every  man  could  not  afford  to  maintain 
a  family.  "  Oh,"  replied  he,  "  pap  is  cheap." 

He  insisted  that  all  men  are  born  with  abilities 
nearly  equal.  "  Any  one,"  he  would  say,  "  might 
become  quite  as  good  a  critic  as  I  am,  if  he  would 
only  take  the  trouble  to  make  himself  so.  I  have 
made  myself  what  I  am  by  intense  labour :  some 
times,  in  order  to  impress  a  thing  upon  my  memory, 
I  have  read  it  a  dozen  times,  and  transcribed  it 
six."* 

*  Put  he  was  certainly  gifted  by  nature  with  most  extraordinary 


306  PORSONIANA. 

He  once  had  occasion  to  travel  to  Norwich. 
When  the  coach  arrived  there,  he  was  beset  by  se 
veral  porters,  one  offering  to  carry  his  portmanteau 
to  his  lodging  for  eighteen-pence,  another  for  a 
shilling,  another  for  ninepence  :  upon  which,  Porson 
shouldered  the  portmanteau,  and  marching  off  with 
it,  said  very  gravely  to  the  porters,  "  Gentlemen,  I 
leave  you  to  settle  this  dispute  among  yourselves." 
When,  however,  he  went  to  stay  with  a  friend  for 
only  a  couple  of  days  or  so,  he  did  not  encumber 
himself  with  a  portmanteau :  he  would  merely  take 
a  shirt  in  his  pocket,  saying,  "  Omnia  mea  mecum 
porto" 

The  time  he  wasted  in  writing  notes  on  the  mar 
gins  of  books — I  mean,  in  writing  them  with  such 
beauty  of  penmanship  that  they  rivalled  print — was 
truly  lamentable.*  And  yet  he  used  those  very 

powers  of  memory.  Dr.  Downie,  of  Aberdeen,  told  me  that,  during 
a  visit  to  London,  he  heard  Porson  declare  that  he  could  repeat  Smol 
lett's  Roderick  Random  from  beginning  to  end  : — and  Mr.  Richard  He-- 
ber  assured  me  that  soon  after  the  appearance  of  the  Essay  on  Irish 
Bulls  (the  joint  production  of  Edgeworth  and  his  daughter),  Porson 
used,  when  somewhat  tipsy,  to  recite  whole  pages  of  it  verbatim  with 
great  delight. — ED. 

*  Such  was  his  rage  for  calligraphy,  that  he  once  offerred  to  letter 
ihe  backs  of  some  of  Mr.  Richard  Heber's  vellum-bound  classics.     "  No," 


FORSONIANA.  307 

books  most  cruelly,  whether  they  were  his  own,  or 
belonging  to  others :  he  would  let  them  lie  about 
his  room,  covered  with  dust  and  all  sorts  of  dirt. 
He  said  that  "lie  possessed  more  bad  copies  of  good 
books  than  any  private  gentleman  in  England." 

When  he  lived  in  Essex  Court,  Temple,  he  would 
shut  himself  up  for  three  or  four  days  together,  ad 
mitting  no  visitors  to  his  chambers.  One  morning 
I  went  to  call  upon  him  there ;  and  having  inquired 
at  his  barber's  close  by  "  if  Mr.  Porson  was  at 
home,"  was  answered  "  Yes,  but  he  has  seen  no  one 
for  two  days."  I,  however,  proceeded  to  his  cham 
bers,  and  knocked  at  the  door  more  than  once.  He 
would  not  open  it,  and  I  came  down  stairs.  As  I 
was  recrossing  the  court,  Porson,  who  had  perceived 
that  /was  the  visitor,  opened  the  window,  and  stopped 
me.  He  was  then  busy  about  the  Grenville  Homer, 
for  which  he  collated  the  Harleian  Ms.  of  the  Odys 
sey.  His  labours  on  that  work  were  rewarded  with 

said  Heber,  "  I  won't  let  you  do  that :  but  I  shall  be  most  thankful 
if  you  will  write  into  an  Athenceus  some  of  those  excellent  emenda 
tions  which  I  have  heard  from  you  in  conversation."  Heber  accord 
ingly  sent  to  him  Brunck's  interleaved  copy  of  that  author  (Casaubon's 
edition) ;  which  Porson  enriched  with  many  notes.  These  notes  were 
afterwards  published  in  his  Adversaria.  The  Athenasus  is  now  in  my 
possession, — ED. 


308  POKSONIANA. 

501.  and  a  large-paper  copy.  I  thought  the  payment 
too  small,  but  Burney  considered  it  as  sufficient. 

I  told  him  one  day  that  the  examiners  for  the 
Cambridge  University  scholarship  had  just  been 
greatly  puzzled  to  find  out  which  of  the  candidates 
was  the  best  scholar.  "  Indeed ! "  said  Porson :  "  I 
wish  I  had  been  there ;  I  would  have  put  a  ques 
tion  or  two  which  would  have  quickly  settled  the 
point." 

Postlethwaite  *  having  come  to  London  to  attend 
the  Westminster  Examination,  Porson  called  upon 
him,  when  the  following  dialogue  (which  I  wrote 
down  from  Person's  dictation)  took  place  between 
them.  Porson.  "  I  am  come,  sir,  to  inform  you  that 
my  fellowship  will  become  vacant  in  a  few  weeks,  in 
order  that  you  may  appoint  my  successor."  Postle. 
"  But,  Mr.  Porson,  you  do  not  mean  to  leave  us  ? " 
Porson.  "  It  is  not  I  who  leave  you,  but  you  who 
dismiss  me.  You  have  done  me  every  injury  in  your 
power.  But  I  am  not  come  to  complain  or  expos^ 
tnlate."  Postle.  "  I  did  not  know,  Mr.  Porson,  you 
were  so  resolved."  Porson.  "  You  could  not  con 
ceive,  sir,  that  I  should  have  applied  for  alay-fellow- 

*  Master  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. — Ep. 


POKSONIANA.  309 

ship  to  the  detriment  of  some  more  scrupulous  man, 
if  it  had  been  my  intention  to  take  orders." 

In  1792,  Postlethwaite  wrote  a  letter  to  Porson 
informing  him  that  the  Greek  Professorship  at  Cam 
bridge  had  fallen  vacant.  Here  is  an  exact  copy  of 
Porson's  answer :  * 

"  SIR, — When  I  first  received  the  favour  of  your 
letter,  I  must  own  that  I  felt  rather  vexation  and 
chagrin  than  hope  and  satisfaction.  I  had  looked 
upon  myself  so  completely  in  the  light  of  an  outcast 
from  Alma  Mater,  that  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to 
have  no  farther  connexion  with  the  place.  The 
prospect  you  held  out  to  me  gave  me  more  uneasi 
ness  than  pleasure.  When  I  was  younger  than  I  now 
am,  and  my  disposition  more  sanguine  than  it  is  at 
present,  I  was  in  daily  expectation  of  Mr.  Cooke's 
resignation,  and  I  nattered  myself  with  the  hope  of 
succeeding  to  the  honour  he  was  going  to  quit.  As 
hope  and  ambition  are  great  castle-builders,  I  had 
laid  a  scheme,  partly,  as  I  was  willing  to  think,  for 
the  joint  credit,  partly  for  the  mutual  advantage,  of 

*  This  letter  has  been  already  printed ;  but  in  publications  that 
are  very  little  known. — ED. 


310  POKSONTANA. 

myself  and  the  University.  I  had  projected  a  plan 
of  reading  lectures,  and  I  persuaded  myself  that  I 
should  easily  obtain  a  grace  permitting  me  to  exact 
a  certain  sum  from  every  person  who  attended.  But 
seven  years'  waiting  will  tire  out  the  most  patient 
temper ;  and  all  my  ambition  of  this  sort  was  long 
ago  laid  asleep.  The  sudden  news  of  the  vacant 
professorship  put  me  in  mind  of  poor  Jacob,  who, 
having  served  seven  years  in  hopes  of  being  rewarded 
with  Rachel,  awoke,  and  behold  it  was  Leah ! 

"  Such,  sir,  I  confess,  were  the  first  ideas  that 
took  possession  of  my  mind.  But  after  a  little  re 
flection,  I  resolved  to  refer  a  matter  of  this  impor 
tance  to  my  Mends.  This  circumstance  has  caused 
the  delay,  for  which  I  ought  before  now  to  have 
apologised.  My  friends  unanimously  exhorted  me  to 
embrace  the  good  fortune  which  they  conceived  to  be 
within  my  grasp.  Their  advice,  therefore,  joined  to 
the  expectation  I  had  entertained  of  doing  some  small 
good  by  my  exertions  in  the  employment,  together 
with  the  pardonable  vanity  which  the  honour  an 
nexed  to  the  office  inspired,  determined  me  :  and  1 
was  on  the  point  of  troubling  you,  sir,  and  the  other 
electors  with  notice  of  my  intentions  to  profess  my- 


PORSONIANA.  311 

self  a  candidate,  when  an  objection,  which  had 
escaped  me  in  the  hurry  of  my  thoughts,  now  oc 
curred  to  my  recollection. 

"  The  same  reason  which  hindered  me  from  keep 
ing  my  fellowship  by  the  method  you  obligingly 
pointed  out  to  me,  would,  I  am  greatly  afraid,  pre 
vent  me  from  being  Greek  Professor.  Whatever 
concern  this  may  give  me  for  myself,  it  gives  me 
none  for  the  public.  I  trust  there  are  at  least  twen 
ty  or  thirty  in  the  University  equally  able  and  wil 
ling  to  undertake  the  office ;  possessed,  many^  of 
talents  superior  to  mine,  and  all  of  a  more  comply 
ing  conscience.  This  I  speak  upon  the  supposition 
that  the  next  Greek  Professor  will  be  compelled  to 
read  lectures  :  but  if  the  place  remains  a  sinecure, 
the  number  of  qualified  persons  will  be  greatly  in 
creased.  And  though  it  were  even  granted,  that 
my  industry  and  attention  might  possibly  produce 
some  benefit  to  the  interests  of  learning  and  the 
credit  of  the  University,  that  trifling  gain  would  be 
as  much  exceeded  by  keeping  the  Professorship  a 
sinecure,  and  bestowing  it  on  a  sound  believer,  as 
temporal  considerations  are  outweighed  by  spiritual. 
Having  only  a  strong  persuasion,  not  an  absolute 


312  PORSONIANA. 

certainty,  that  such  a  subscription  is  required  of  the 
Professor  elect, — if  I  am  mistaken,  I  hereby  offer 
myself  as  a  candidate  ;  but  if  I  am  right  in  my  opin 
ion,  I  shall  beg  of  you  to  order  my  name  to  be 
erased  from  the  boards,  and  I  shall  esteem  it  a  fa 
vour  conferred  on,  sir, 

"  Your  obliged  humble  servant, 

"  B.  PORSON. 

"  Essex  Court,  Temple,  6th  October,  1792." 

When  he  was  first  elected  Greek  Professor,*  he 
assured  me  that  he  intended  to  give  public  lectures 
in  that  capacity.  I  afterwards  asked  him  why  he 
had  not  given  them.  He  replied,  "  Because  I  have 
thought  better  on  it :  whatever  originality  my  lec 
tures  might  have  had,  people  would  have  cried  out, 
We  Icnew  all  this  before" 

I  was  with  him  one  day  when  he  bought  Dra- 
kenborch's  Livy  ;  and  I  said,  "  Do  you  mean  to 
read  through  all  the  notes  in  these  seven  quarto 
volumes?"  "I  buy  it  at  least,"  he  answered,  "in 

*  In  1793,  by  an  unanimous  vote  of  the  seven  electors. — Accord 
ing  to  the  printed  accounts  of  Person,  he  was  prevented  from  giving 
lectures  by  the  want  of  rooms  for  that  purpose. — ED, 


POKSONIANA.  313 

the  hope  of  doing  so  some  time  or  other  :  there  is 
no  doubt  a  deal  of  valuable  information  to  be  found 
in  the  notes  ;  and  I  shall  endeavour  to  collect  that 
information.  Indeed,  I  should  like  to  publish  a 
volume  of  the  curious  things  which  I  have  gathered 
in  the  course  of  my  studies ;  but  people  would  only 
say  of  it,  We  knew  all  this  before." 

Porson  had  no  very  high  opinion  of  Parr,  and 
could  not  endure  his  metaphysics.  One  evening, 
Parr  was  beginning  a  regular  harangue  on  the  ori 
gin  of  evil,  when  Porson  stopped  him  short  by  ask 
ing  "  what  was  the  use  of  it  ?  "—Porson,  who  shrunk 
on  all  occasions  from  praise  of  himself,  was  only 
annoyed  by  the  eulogies  which  Parr  lavished  upon 
him  in  print.  When  Parr  published  the  Jtemarks 
on  Combe's  Statement,  in  which  Porson  is  termed 
"  a  giant  in  literature,"  *  &c.,  Porson  said,  "  How 
should  Dr.  Parr  be  able  to  take  the  measure  of  a 
giant?" 

*  "  But  Mr.  Porson,  the  re-publisher  of  Heyne's  Virgil,  is  a  giant 
in  literature,  a  prodigy  in  intellect,  a  critic,  whose  mighty  achieve 
ments  leave  imitation  panting  at  a  distance  behind  them,  and  whose 
stupendous  powers  strike  down  all  the  restless  and  aspiring  suggestions 
of  rivalry  into  silent  admiration  and  passive  awe."  p.  13.  This  tract, 
is  not  reprinted  entire  in  the  ed.  of  Parr's  Works.  —En. 
14 


314  POKSONIANA. 

Parr  was  evidently  afraid  of  Porson, — of  his  in 
tellectual  powers.  I  might  say  too  that  Home 
Tooke  had  a  dread  of  Porson  ;  but  it  was  only  the 
dread  of  being  insulted  by  some  rude  speech  from 
Porson  in  his  drunkenness.  Porson  thought  highly 
both  of  Tooke's  natural  endowments  and  of  his  ac 
quirements.  "  I  have  learned  many  valuable  things 
from  Tooke,"  was  what  he  frequently  said  ;  "  yet  I 
don't  always  believe  Tooke's  assertions,"  was  some- 

t/ 

times  his  remark. — (I  knew  Parr  intimately.  I  once 
dined  at  Dilly's  with  Parr,  Priestley,  Cumberland, 
and  some  other  distinguished  people.  Cumberland, 
who  belonged  to  the  family  of  the  Blandishes,  be- 
praised  Priestley  to  his  face,  and  after  he  had  left 
the  party,  spoke  of  him  very  disparagingly.  This 
excited  Parr's  extremest  wrath.  When  I  met  him 
a  few  days  after,  he  said,  "  Only  think  of  Mr.  Cum- 

9 

berland  !  that  he  should  have  presumed  to  talk  be 
fore  me, — before  me,  sir, — in  such  terms  of  my  friend 
Dr.  Priestley  !  Pray,  sir,  let  Mr.  Dilly  know  my 
opinion  of  Mr.  Cumberland, — that  his  ignorance  is 
equalled  only  by  his  impertinence,  and  that  both 
are  exceeded  by  his  malice." — Parr  hated  Dr.  Hors- 
ley  to  such  a  degree  that  he  never  mentioned  him 


PORSONIANA.  315 

by  any  other  name  than  the  fiend. — Parr  once  said 
to  Barker,  "  You  have  read  a  great  deal,  you  have 
thought  very  little,  and  you  know  nothing.") 

One  day  Porson  went  down  to  Greenwich  to  bor 
row  a  book  from  Burney  ;  and  finding  that  Burney 
was  out,  he  stepped  into  his  library,  pocketed  the 
volume,  and  set  off  again  for  London.  Soon  after, 
Burney  came  home ;  and,  offended  at  the  liberty 
Porson  had  taken,  pursued  him  in  a  chaise,  and  re 
covered  the  book.  Porson  talked  to  me  of  this  af 
fair  with  some  bitterness  :  "  Did  Burney  suppose," 
he  said,  "  that  I  meant  to  play  his  old  tricks  ? "  (al 
luding  to  a  well-known  circumstance  in  the  earlier 
part  of  Burney 's  history). 

I  believe,  with  you,  that  Burney  was  indebted 
to  Porson  for  many  of  those  remarks  on  various 
niceties  of  Greek  which  he  has  given  as  his  own  in 
different  publications.  Porson  once  said  to  me, 
«  A  certain  gentleman  "  (evidently  meaning  Burney) 
^  has  just  been  with  me  ;  and  he  brought  me  a  long 
string  of  questions,  every  one  of  which  I  answered 
off-hand.  Really,  before  people  become  schoolmas 
ters,  they  ought  to  get  up  their  Greek  thoroughly, 
for  they  never  learn  any  thing  more  of  it  after- 


316  POKSONIANA. 

wards." — I  one  day  asked  Burney  for  his  opinion  of 
Porson  as  a  scholar.  Burney  replied,  "  I  think  my 
friend  Dick's  acquaintance  with  the  Greek  drama 
tists  quite  marvellous  ;  but  he  was  just  as  well  ac 
quainted  with  them  at  the  age  of  thirty  as  he  is  now : 
he  has  not  improved  in  Greek  since  he  added  bran- 
dy-and-water  to  his  potations,  and  took  to  novel- 
reading."  Porson  would  sometimes  read  nothing 
but  novels  for  a  fortnight  together. 

Porson  felt  much  respect  for  Gilbert  Wakefield;s 
integrity,  but  very  little  for  his  learning.  "When 
Wakefield  put  forth  the  Diatribe  Extemporalis  *  on 
Person's  edition  of  the  Hecuba,  Porson  said,  "  If 
Wakefield  goes  on  at  this  rate,  he  will  tempt  me  to 
examine  his  Silva  Critica.  I  hope  that  we  shall  not 
meet ;  for  a  violent  quarrel  would  be  the  conse 
quence." — (Wakefield  was  a  very  agreeable  and  en 
tertaining  companion.  "  My  Lucretius"  he  once 

*  On  the  publication  of  Person's  Hecuba,  Wakefield,  in  great  agi 
tation,  asked  Mr.  Evans  (the  now  retired  bookseller)  who  was 
its  editor  ?  "  Can  you  have  any  doubts  ?  "  replied  Evans ;  "  Mr. 
Porson,  of  course." — "  But,"  said  Wakefield,  "  I  want  proof, — positive 
proof."  "Well,  then,"  replied  Evans,  "I  saw  Mr.  Porson  present  a 
large-paper  copy  to  Mr.  Cracherode,  and  heard  him  acknowledge  him 
self  the  editor."  Wakefield  immediately  went  home,  and  composed 
the  Diatribe. — ED. 


POESONIANA.  317 

said  to  me,  "  is  my  most  perfect  publication, — it  is, 
in  fact,  Lucretius  Restitutus"*  He  was  a  great 
walker ;  he  has  walked  as  much  as  forty  miles  in 
one  day ;  and  I  believe  that  his  death  wras  partly 
brought  on  by  excessive  walking,  after  his  long 
confinement  in  Dorchester  gaol.  What  offended 
Wakefield  at  Porson  was,  that  Person  had  made  no 
mention  of  him  in  his  notes.  Now,  Porson  told 
Burney  expressly,  that  out  of  pure  kindness  he  had 
forborne  to  mention  Wakefield ;  for  he  could  not 
have  cited  any  of  his  emendations  without  the 
severest  censure.) 

Dr.  Raine,  Dr.  Davy,  Cleaver  Banks,  and  per 
haps  I  may  add  myself,  were  the  persons  with  whom 
Porson  maintained  the  greatest  intimacy. 

Banks  once  invited  Porson  (about  a  year  before 
his  death)  to  dine  with  him  at  an  hotel  at  the  west 
end  of  London;  but  the  dinner  passed  away  with 
out  the  expected  guest  having  made  his  appearance. 
Afterwards,  on  Bank's  asking  him  why  he  had  not 
kept  his  engagement,  Porson  replied  (without  enter 
ing  into  further  particulars)  that  "he  had  come!" 

*  He  sadly  deceived  himself :  see  the  judgment  passed  on  it  by 
Lachmann  in  his  recent  admirable  edition  of  Lucretius. — ED. 


318  PORSONIANA. 

and  Banks  oould  only  conjecture,  that  the  waiters, 
seeing  Person's  shabby  dress,  and  not  knowing  who 
he  was,  had  offered  him  some  insult,  which  had 
made  him  indignantly  return  home. 

"I  hear,"  said  I  to  Porson,  "  that  you  are  to  dine 
to-day  at  Holland  House."  "  Who  told  you  so  ?  " 
asked  he. — I  replied,  "  Mackintosh."  "But  I  cer 
tainly  shall  not  go,"  continued  Porson:  "they  in 
vite  me  merely  out  of  curiosity ;  and,  after  they  have 
satisfied  it,  they  would  like  to  kick  me  down  stairs." 
I  then  informed  him  that  Fox  was  coming  from  St. 
Anne's  Hill  to  Holland  House  for  the  express  pur 
pose  of  being  introduced  to  him :  but  he  persisted  in 
his  resolution ;  and  dined  quietly  with  Rogers  and 
myself  at  Eogers's  chambers  in  the  Temple.  Many 
years  afterwards,  Lord  Holland  mentioned  to  Rogers 
that  his  uncle  (Fox)  had  been  greatly  disappointed 
at  not  meeting  Porson  on  that  occasion. 

Porson  disliked  Mackintosh;  they  differed  in 
politics,  and  their  reading  had  little  in  common. 

One  day  Porson  took  up  in  my  room  a  nicely 
bound  copy  of  the  Polycraticon  (by  John  of  Salis 
bury),  and  having  dipped  into  it,  said,  "  I  must  read 
this  through ; "  so  he  carried  it  off.  About  a  month 


POESONTANA.  319 

had  elapsed,  when  calling  at  his  chambers,  I  hap 
pened  to  see  my  beautiful  book  lying  on  the  floor 
and  covered  with  dust.  This  vexed  me  ;  and  I  men 
tioned  the  circumstance  to  Mr.  Maltby  (an  elder 
brother  of  the  Eishop  of  Durham),  who  repeated  to 
Person  what  I  had  said.  A  day  or  two  after,  I  dined 
with  Porson  at  Rogers's :  he  swallowed  a  good  deal 
of  wine  ;  and  then  began  in  a  loud  voice  an  indirect 
attack  on  me, — "There  are  certain  people  who  com 
plain  that  I  use  their  books  roughly,"  &c.  &c.  I  was 
quite  silent ;  and  when  he  found  that  I  would  not 
take  any  notice  of  his  tirade,  he  dropped  the  subject. 

When  Porson  was  told  that  Pretyman  *  had  been 
left  a  large  estate  by  a  person  who  had  seen  him 
only  once,  he  said,  "  It  would  not  have  happened, 
if  the  person  had  seen  him  twice." 

Meeting  me  one  day  at  a  booksale,  Porson  said, 
« That  *  *  *  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln  (Tomline) 
has  just  passed  me  in  the  street,  and  he  shrunk  from 
my  eye  like  a  wild  animal.  "What  do  you  think  he 
has  had  the  impudence  to  assert?  Not  long  ago,  he 

*  Then  Bishop  of  Lincoln.  A  valuable  estate  was  bequeathed 
to  him  by  Marmaduke  Tomline  (a  gentleman  with  whom  he  had  no 
relationship  or  connection),  on  condition  of  his  taking  the  name  of 
Tomline. — ED. 


320  POESONIANA. 

came  to  me,  and,  after  informing  me  that  Lord  Elgin 
was  appointed  ambassador  to  the  Porte,  he  asked 
me  if  I  knew  any  one  who  was  competent  to  exam 
ine  the  Greek  manuscripts  at  Constantinople :  I  re 
plied  that  I  did  not:  and  he  now  tells  every  body 
that  I  refused  the  proposal  of  government  that  1 
should  go  there  to  examine  those  manuscripts  !  " — 
I  do  not  believe  that  Porson  would  have  gone  to 
Constantinople,  if  he  had  had  the  offer.  He  hated 
moving ;  and  would  not  even  accompany  me  to  Pa 
ris.  When  I  was  going  thither,  he  charged  me  with 
a  message  to  Yilloison. 

When  Porson  first  met  Perry  after  the  fire  in  the 
house  of  the  latter  at  Merton,  he  immediately  in 
quired  "if  any  lives  had  been  lost? "  Perry  replied 
"No."  "Well,"  said  Porson,  "then  I  shall  not 
complain,  though  I  have  lost  the  labours  of  my  life." 
His  transcript*  of  the  Cambridge  Photius,  which 
was  burnt  in  that  fire,  he  afterwards  replaced  by 
patiently  making  a  second  transcript ;  but  his  nu 
merous  notes  on  Aristophanes,  which  had  also  been 
consumed,  were  irrecoverably  gone. 

*  Two  beautifully  written  fragments  of  it  (scorched  to  a  deep 
brown)  are  in  my  possession. — En. 


POBSONIANA.  321 

He  used  to  call  Bishop  Portens  "  Bishop  Pro 
teus  "  (as  one  who  had  changed  his  opinions  from 
liberal  to  illiberal). 

For  the  scholarship  of  that  amiable  man  Bishop 
Burgess  he  felt  a  contempt  which  he  was  unable  to 
conceal.  He  was  once  on  a  visit  at  Oxford  in  com 
pany  with  Cleaver  Banks,  where,  during  a  supper- 
party,  he  gave  great  offence  by  talking  of  Burgess 
with  any  thing  but  respect.  At  the  same  supper- 
party,  too,  he  offended  Professor  Holmes :  *  taking 
up  an  oyster  which  happened  to  be  gaping,  he  ex 
claimed,  Quid  dignum  tanto  feret  hie  professor  hi- 
atu(\  f  (substituting  "professor"  for  "promissor"). 

Person,  having  good  reason  to  believe  that  Mat 
thias  was  the  author  of  the  Pursuits  of  Literature, 
used  always  to  call  him  "the  Pursuer  of  Literature." 

It  was  amusing  to  see  Kidd  in  Person's  company : 
he  bowed  down  before  Porson  with  the  veneration 
due  to  some  being  of  a  superior  nature,  and  seemed 
absolutely  to  swallow  every  word  that  dropped  from 
his  mouth.  Porson  acknowledged  (and  he  was  slow 
to  praise)  that  Kidd  was  a  very  pretty  scholar." 

Out  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  Markland,  Por- 

*  The  then  Professor  of  Poetry.— ED. 
t  Horace,  Ars  Poet.  138. — ED. 
U* 


322  PORSONIANA. 

son  went  to  see  the  house  near  Dorking,  where  he 
had  spent  his  later  years  and  where  he  died. 

I  need  hardly  say  that  he  thought  Tyrwhitt  an 
admirable  critic. 

A  gentleman  who  had  heard  that  Bentley  was 
born  in  the  north,  said  to  Porson,  ""Wasn't  he  a 
Scotchman  ?" — "  No,  sir,"  replied  Porson ;  "  Bentley 
was  a  Greek  scholar." 

He  said,  "  Pearson  would  have  been  a  first-rate 
critic  in  Greek,  if  he  had  not  muddled  his  brains 
with  divinity." 

He  had  a  high  opinion  of  Coray  as  a  scholar, 
and  advised  me  by  all  means  to  purchase  his  Hip 
pocrates.* 

He  liked  Larcher's  translation  of  Herodotus, 
and,  indeed,  all  Larcher's  pieces.  At  his  recom 
mendation  I  bought  Larcher's  Memoire  sur  Venus. 
He  was  a  great  reader  of  translations,  and  never 
wrote  a  note  on  any  passage  of  an  ancient  author 
without  first  carefully  looking  how  it  had  been  ren 
dered  by  the  different  translators. 

Porson,  of  course,  did  not  value  the  Latin  writers 
so  much  as  the  Greek ;  but  still  he  used  to  read  many 

*  i.  e.  The,  Treatise  of  Hippocrates  on  Airs,  Waters,  and  Places  (in 
Greek  and  French),  2  vols. — ED. 


POESONIANA.  323 

of  the  former  with  great  care,  particularly  Cicero,  of 
whose  Tusculan  Disputations  he  was  very  fond. 

For  all  modern  Greek  and  Latin  poetry  he  had 
the  profoundest  contempt.  When  Herbert  pub 
lished  the  Musce  Etonenses,  Porson  said,  after  look 
ing  over  one  of  the  volumes,  "Here  is  trash,  fit 
only  to  be  put  behind  the  fire." 

His  favourite  authors  in  Greek  (as,  I  believe, 
every  body  knows)  were  the  tragedians  and  Aristo 
phanes  ;  he  had  them  almost  by  heart. 

He  confessed  to  me  and  the  present  Bishop  of 
Durham  (Maltby),  that  he  knew  comparatively  little 
of  Thucydides — that,  when  he  read  him,  he  was 
obliged  to  mark  with  a  pencil,  in  almost  every  page, 
passages  which  he  did  not  understand. 

He  dabbled  a  good  deal  in  Galen. 

He  cared  less  about  Lucian  than,  considering 
the  subjects  of  that  writer,  you  might  suppose  ;  the 
fact  was,  he  did  not  relish  such  late  Greek. 

He  sent  Thomas  Taylor  *  several  emendations  of 

*  With  that  remarkable  person,  Thomas  Taylor,.  I  was  well 
acquainted.  In  Greek  verbal  scholarship  he  was  no  doubt  very 
deficient  (he  was  entirely  self-taught) ;  but  in  a  knowledge  of  the 
matter  of  Plato,  of  Aristotle,  of  the  commentators  on  Aristotle  (them 
selves  a  library),  of  Proclus,  of  Plotinus,  &c.,  he  has  never,  I  pre 
sume,  been  equalled  by  any  Englishman.  That  he  endeavoured  to 


324:  POKSOOTANA. 

Plato's  text  for  his  translation  of  that  philosopher ; 
but  Taylor,  from  his  ignorance  of  the  Greek  lan 
guage,  was  unable  to  use  them. 

cany  into  practice  the  precepts  of  the  ancient  philosophers  is  suffi 
ciently  notorious :  that  he  did  so  to  the  last  hour  of  his  existence  I 
myself  had  a  proof:  the  day  before  he  died,  I  went  to  see  him ;  and 
to  my  inquiry  "  how  he  was  ?  "  he  answered,  "  I  have  passed  a  dread 
ful  night  of  pain — but  you  remember  what  Posidonius  said  to  Pompey" 
(about  pain  being  no  evil). 

Chalmers,  in  his  Biog.  Diet.,  expresses  his  regret  that  he  can  tell 
so  little  about  Floyer  Sydenham,  the  excellent  translator  of  Plato, 
and  remarks  that  he  "  deserves  a  fuller  account."  I  give  the  fol 
lowing  particulars  concerning  him  on  the  authority  of  Taylor,  who 
when  a  young  man  was  intimate  with  Sydenham,  and  who,  let  me 
add,  had  a  scrupulous  regard  to  truth  in  whatever  he  stated. — • 
Sydenham  was  originally  a  clergyman  with  a  living  of  about  SOO/. 
per  annum;  but,  having  fallen  in  love  with  a  young  lady  whose 
father  objected  to  his  addresses  because  he  was  in  the  church,  he 
threw  up  his  living,  and  had  recourse  to  the  law  as  a  profession. 
After  all,  it  appears,  he  did  not  marry  the  fair  one  for  whose  sake 
he  had  sacrificed  so  much.  Having  made  no  progress  at  the  bar,  he 
entered  the  naval  service,  went  abroad,  endured  many  hardships, 
and  finally  worked  his  way  back  to  England  as  a  common  sailor.  He 
was  far  from  young  when  he  first  applied  himself  to  the  study  of 
Plato.  During  his  later  years  Taylor  became  acquainted  with  him. 
On  their  first  meeting,  Sydenham  shook  Taylor  cordially  by  the 
hand,  and  said  he  reckoned  himself  truly  fortunate  in  having  at  last 
met  with  a  real  Platonist — deeply  regretting  his  own  want  of  fami 
liarity  with  Proclus  and  Plotinus.  He  at  that  time  lodged  at  the 
house  of  a  statuary  in  the  Strand.  He  was  in  very  distressed  cir 
cumstances  ;  and  regularly  received  two  guineas  a  month  from 
Harris  (the  author  of  Hermes).  He  used  to  dine  at  a  neighbouring 


PORSONIAJSTA.  325 

A  gentleman  who,  at  the  age  of  forty,  wished  to 
commence  the  study  of  Greek,  asked  Porson,  with 
what  books  he  ought  to  begin  ?  Porson  answered, 
"With  one  only  —  Scapula's  Lexicon;  read  it 
through  from  the  first  page  to  the  last."  Of  the 
editions  of  that  work  Porson  most  valued  the  Ge 
neva  one :  he  said  that  he  had  found  in  it  several 
things  which  were  not  in  the  other  editions. 

He  recommended  Gesner's  Thesaurus  in  prefer 
ence  to  all  Latin  dictionaries. 

He  read  a  vast  number  of  French  works,  and 
used  to  say,  "  If  I  had  a  son,  I  should  endeavour 
to  make  him  familiar  with  French  and  English  au 
thors,  rather  than  with  the  classics.  Greek  and 
Latin  are  only  luxuries." 

Of  Italian,  I  apprehend,  he  knew  little  or  no 
thing. 

eating-house,  where  he  had  run  up  a  bill  of  4QL  This  debt,  as  well 
as  several  other  debts,  he  was  unable  to  pay ;  and  his  acquaintances 
refused  to  discharge  his  bills,  though  they  consented  to  maintain  him 
during  his  abode  in  the  Fleet-prison,  where  he  was  about  to  be  con 
fined.  The  night  preceding  the  day  on  which  he  was  to  be  carried  to 
gaol  he  was  found  dead — having  undoubtedly  (as  Taylor  asserted) 
put  an  end  to  his  existence.  For  some  time  before  his  death  he  had 
been  partially  insane :  as  he  went  up  and  down  stairs,  he  fancied 
turkeys  were  gobbling  at  him,  &c. — ED. 


326  POESONIANA. 

He  delighted  in  Milton.  "If  I  live,"  he  ex 
claimed,  "  I  will  write  an  essay  to  show  the  w^orld 
how  unjustly  Milton  has  been  treated  by  Johnson." 
(George  Steevens  told  me  that  Johnson  said  to 
him,  "  In  my  Life  of  Milton  I  have  spoken  of  the 
Paradise  Lost,  not  so  much  from  my  own  convic 
tions  of  its  merit,  as  in  compliance  with  the  taste  of 
the  multitude."  A  very  old  gentleman,  who  had 
known  Johnson  intimately,  assured  me  that  the  bent 
of  his  mind  was  decidedly  towards  scepticism  ;  that 
he  was  literally  afraid  to  examine  his  own  thoughts 
on  religious  matters ;  and  that  hence  partly  arose 
his  hatred  of  Hume  and  other  such  writers. — 
Dr.  Gosset  (as  he  himself  told  me)  once  dined  with 
Johnson  and  a  few  others  at  Dr.  Musgrave's  (the 
editor  of  Euripides).  During  dinner,  while  Mus- 
grave  was  holding  forth  very  agreeably  on  some  sub 
ject,  Johnson  suddenly  interrupted  him  with,  "  Sir, 
you  talk  like  a  fool."  A  dead  silence  ensued ;  and 
Johnson,  perceiving  that  his  rude  speech  had  occa 
sioned  it,  turned  to  Musgrave,  and  said,  "  Sir,  I  fear 
I  have  hurt  your  feelings."  "  Dr.  Johnson,"  replied 
Musgrave,  "  I  feel  only  for  you"  I  have  often  heard 
Mrs.  Carter  say,  that,  rude  as  Johnson  might  occa- 


PORSONIANA.  327 

sionally  be  to  others,  both  male  and  female,  he  had 
invariably  treated  her  with  gentleness  and  kindness. 
She  perfectly  adored  his  memory  :  and  she  used  to 
read  his  TOUT  to  the  Hebrides  once  every  year,  think 
ing  it,  as  I  do,  one  of  his  best  works.) 

Porson  was  passionately  fond  of  Swift's  Tale  of 
a  Tub,  and  whenever  he  saw  a  copy  of  it  on  a  stall, 
he  would  purchase  it.  He  could  repeat  by  heart  a 
quantity  of  Swift's  verses. 

His  admiration  of  Pope  was  extreme.  I  have 
seen  the  tears  roll  down  his  cheeks  while  he  was 
repeating  Pope's  lines  To  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  pre 
fixed  to  ParneWs  Poems  (and,  indeed,  I  have  seen 
him  weep,  while  repeating  other  favourite  passages, 
— the  chorus  in  the  Hercules  Furens  of  Euripides, 
A  veoras  pot,  <j)i\ov  a%0o?,  &c.)  He  thought  Pope's 
Homer,  in  the  finest  passages  of  the  poem,  superior 
to  Cowper's.  One  forenoon,  while  he  was  going  over 
Pope's  villa  at  Twickenham,  in  company  with  Rogers 
and  myself,  he  said,  "  Oh,  how  I  should  like  to  pass 
the  remainder  of  my  days  in  a  house  which  was  the 
abode  of  a  man  so  deservedly  celebrated  ! " 

He  was  fond  of  Foote's  plays,  and  would  often 
recite  scenes  from  them. 


328  PORSONIANA. 

Junius  was  one  of  his  favourite  authors  ;  he  had 
many  passages  of  him  by  heart. 

He  greatly  admired  and  used  often  to  repeat  the 
following  passage  from  the  Preface  to  Middletoii's 
free  Inquiry : 

"  I  persuade  myself  that  the  life  and  faculties  of 
man,  at  the  best  but  short  and  limited,  cannot  be 
employed  more  rationally  or  laudably  than  in  the 
search  of  knowledge ;  and  especially  of  that  sort 
which  relates  to  our  duty  and  conduces  to  our  hap 
piness.  In  these  inquiries,  therefore,  wherever  I 
perceive  any  glimmering  of  truth  before  me,  I 
readily  pursue  and  endeavour  to  trace  it  to  its 
source,  without  any  reserve  or  caution  of  pushing 
the  discovery  too  far,  or  opening  too  great  a  glare  of 
it  to  the  public.  I  look  upon  the  discovery  of  any 
thing  which  is  true  as  a  valuable  acquisition  to  so 
ciety  ;  which  cannot  possibly  hurt  or  obstruct  the 
good  effect  of  any  other  truth  whatsoever ;  for  they  all 
partake  of  one  common  essence,  and  necessarily  coin 
cide  with  each  other ;  and  like  the  drops  of  rain,  which 
fall  separately  into  the  river,  mix  themselves  at  once 
with  the  stream,  and  strengthen  the  general  current." 

He  liked  Moore's  Fables  for  the  Female  Sex,  and 


POKSONIANA.  329 

I  have  heard  him  repeat  the  one  which  is  entitled 
"  The  Female  Seducers."* 

At  a  booksale,  the  auctioneer  having  put  up 
Wilkes's  edition  of  Theophrastus,  and  praised  it  high 
ly,  Person  exclaimed,  "Pooh,  pooh,  it  is  like  its 
editor — of  no  character."  (I  was  very  intimate 
with  Wilkes.  He  felt  excessively  angry  at  the  ac 
count  given  of  him  in  Gibbon's  "  Journal" — in  the 
quarto  edition  of  his  Miscell.  Works,  i.  100 — and 
said  to  me  that  "  Gibbon  must  have  been  drunk 
when  he  wrote  that  passage."  The  fact  is,  Lord 
Sheffield  printed  in  the  quarto  edition  only  part  of 
what  Gibbon  had  written  aboutWilkes :  if  the  whole 
of  it  had  appeared  there,  as  it  afterwards  did  in  the 
octavo  edition,  I  have  no  doubt  that  Wilkes  would 
have  called  out  Lord  Sheffield.) 

Person  would  often  carry  in  his  pocket  a  volume 
of  A  Cordial  for  Low  Spirits,  f 

*  This  now-forgotten  poem  was  once  very  popular.  Speaking  of 
Dr.  Mudge,  "  I  remember,"  said  Northcote,  "  his  once  reading  Moore' s 
fable  of  The  Female  Seducers  with  such  feeling  and  sweetness  that 
every  one  was  delighted,  and  Dr.  Mudge  himself  was  so  much  affected 
that  he  burst  into  tears  in  the  middle  of  it."  Hazlitt's  Conversations  of 
Northcote,  p.  89.  At  present  Moore  is  only  recollected  as  the  author 
of  The  Gamester. — ED. 

f  As  the  Cordial  for  .Low  Spirits,  in  three  volumes,  is  now  little 
read,  I  may  mention  that  it  is  a  very  curious  collection  of  contro- 


330  PORSONIANA. 

On  returning  from  a  visit  to  the  Lakes,  I  told 
Porson  that  Southey  had  said  to  me,  "  My  Madoc 
has  brought  me  in  a  mere  trifle  ;  but  that  poem  will 
be  a  valuable  possession  to  my  family."  Porson 
answered,  "  M.adoc  will  be  read — when  Homer  and 
Virgil  are  forgotten  "  (a  ~bon-mot  which  reached  Lord 
Byron,  and  which  his  lordship  spoilt*). 

He  disliked  reading  folios,  "  because,"  said  he, 
"we  meet  with  so  few  mile-stones"  (i.  e.  we  have 
such  long  intervals  between  the  turning  over  of  the 
leaves). 

The  last  book  he  ever  purchased  was  "Watson's 
Horace  •  the  last  author  he  ever  read  was  Pausa- 
nias. 

When  asked  why  he  had  written  so  little,  Porson 
replied,  "  I  doubt  if  I  could  produce  any  original 
work  which  would  command  the  attention  of  poste 
rity.  I  can  be  known  only  by  my  notes  :  and  I  am 
quite  satisfied  if,  three  hundred  years  hence,  it  shall 

versial  pieces,  &c.,  some  of  which  were  written  by  Thomas  Gordon 
(author  of  The  Independent  Whig),  who  edited  the  work.  Its  hetero 
doxy  did  not  render  it  the  less  acceptable  to  Porson. — ED. 

*  "  Joan  of  Arc  was  marvellous  enough ;  but  Thalaba  was  one 
of  those  poems  '  which,'  in  the  words  of  Porson,  '  will  be  read  when 
Homer  and  Virgil  are  forgotten — but — not  till  then.'"  Note  on  English 
Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers. — ED. 


PORSONIANA.  331 

be  said  that '  one  Person  lived  towards  the  close  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  who  did  a  good  deal  for  the 
text  of  Euripides.' " 

The  Letters  on  the  Orgies  of  Bacchus,  signed 
"  Mythologus,"  are  undoubtedly  by  Porson.  Kidd 
says  that  "his  mind  must  have  been  overclouded"* 
at  the  time  he  wrote  those  Letters :  which  is  not 
true  ;  his  mind  was  then  in  its  soundest  and  most 
vigorous  state.  They  show  plainly  enough  wrhat  his 
opinions  were.  When  any  one  said  to  him,  "  Why 
don't  you  speak  out  more  plainly  on  matters  of  re 
ligion?"  he  would  answer,  "JSTo,  no;  I  shall  take 
care  not  to  give  mine  enemies  a  hold  upon  me." 
The  New  Catechism  for  the  use  of  the  Swinish 
Multitude  (which  Carlisle  of  Fleet  Street  reprinted) 
was  also  certainly  by  Porson.  I  transcribed  it  from 
a  copy  in  his  own  handwriting,  f 

It  is  not  known  who  wrote  Six  more  Letters  to 

*  Parson's  Tracts,  p.  xxxiii.  note.  The  object  of  these  Letters 
(originally  printed  in  The  Morning  Chronicle,  and  reprinted  in  The 
Spirit  of  the  Public  Journals  for  1797)  is  to  point  out,  or  rather  to 
insinuate,  the  resemblance  between  the  history  of  Bacchus  and  that 
of  our  Saviour.  However  they  may  shock  the  reader,  at  least  they 
can  do  him  no  harm ;  the  whole  being  quite  as  absurd  as  it  is  pro 
fane.— ED. 

t  A  gentleman  informed  me  that  Porson  presented  to  him  a  copy 
of  the  Catechism — a  printed  copy. — ED. 


332  PORSONIANA. 

Granville  Sharp,  which,  according  to  the  title-page, 
are  by  Gregory  Blunt,  They  were  very  generally 
attributed  to  Porson ;  and  I  have  been  in  a  book 
seller's  shop  with  him,  when  a  person  has  come  in, 
and  asked  for  "Mr.  Person's  remarks  on  Sharp." 
I  do  not  believe  that  he  was  the  author  of  them ; 
but  I  have  little  doubt  that  he  gave  some  assistance 
to  the  author,  particularly  in  the  notes.  He  always 
praised  the  work,  and  recommended  it  to  his 
friends.* 

I  have  often  heard  him  repeat  the  following  lines, 
which,  I  presume,  were  his  own  composition :  f 

"  Poetis  nos  Icetamur  tribus, 
Pye,  Petro  Pindar,  parw  Pybus : 
Si  ulterius  ire  pergis, 
Adde  his  Sir  James  Bland  Burges." 

Porson  thought  meanly  of  the  medical  science, 

*  These  Six  more  Letters  form  a  sort  of  supplement  to  a  publication 
by  the  late  Dr.  Christopher  Wordsworth,  entitled  Six  letters  to  Gran 
ville  Sharp,  Esq.,  respecting  his  Remarks  on  the  Uses  of  the  Definitive 
Article  in  the  Greek  Text  of  the  New  Testament,  1802.  In  the  "Adver 
tisement"  to  Who  wrote  EIKftN  BA2IAIKH,  &c.,  1824,  Dr.  Words 
worth  states  that  Porson  "assured  him  privately"  that  the  Six  more 
Letters  were  not  from  his  pen. — ED. 

f  They  are  printed  by  Dubois,  but  very  incorrectly,  in  his  satire 
on  Sir  John  Carr,  My  Pocket-Book,  £c.,  p.  91. — En. 


POKSONIANA.  333 

and  hated  consulting  physicians.  He  once  said  to 
me,  "  I  have  been  staying  with  Dr.  Davy  at  Cam 
bridge  :  I  was  unwell,  and  he  prevailed  upon  me  to 
call  in  a  physician,  who  took  my  money,  and  did  me 
no  good." 

During  the  earlier  part  of  our  acquaintance,  1 
have  heard  him  boast  that  he  had  not  the  slightest 
dread  of  death — declaring  that  he  despised  fdbulce 
aniles,  and  quoting  Epicharmus  (from  Cicero*),  &c. 
He  was  once  holding  forth  in  this  strain,  when  Dr. 
Babington  said  to  him,  "Let  me  tell  you,  Porson, 
that  I  have  known  several  persons  who,  though, 
when  in  perfect  health,  they  talked  as  you  do  now, 
were  yet  dreadfully  alarmed  when  death  was  really 
near  them." 

A  man  of  such  habits  as  Porson  was  little  fitted 
for  the  office  of  Librarian  to  the  London  Institu 
tion.  He  was  very  irregular  in  his  attendance  there ; 
he  never  troubled  himself  about  the  purchase  of 
books  which  ought  to  have  been  added  to  the  li 
brary  ;  and  he  would  frequently  come  home  dead- 
drunk  long  after  midnight.  I  have  good  reason  to 
believe  that,  had  he  lived,  he  would  have  been  re- 

*  Twsc.  i.  8.— ED. 


334:  POESONIANA. 

quested  to  give  up  the  office — in  other  words,  he 
would  have  been  dismissed.  I  once  read  a  letter 
which  he  received  from  the  Directors  of  the  Institu 
tion,  and  which  contained,  among  other  severe  things, 
this  cutting  remark — "  "We  only  know  that  you  are 
our  Librarian  by  seeing  your  name  attached  to  the 
receipts  for  your  salary."  His  intimate  friend,  Dr«. 
Raine,  was  one  of  those  who  signed  that  letter ;  and 
Raine,  speaking  of  it  to  me,  said,  "  Person  well  de 
served  it."  As  Librarian  to  the  Institution,  he  had 
200Z.  a-year,  apartments  rent-free,  and  the  use  of  a 
servant.  Yet  he  was  eternally  railing  at  the  Direc 
tors,  calling  them  "mercantile  and  mean  beyond 
merchandize  and  meanness." 

During  the  two  last  years  of  his  life  I  could 
perceive  that  he  was  not  a  little  shaken ;  and  it  is 
really  wonderful,  when  we  consider  his  drinking, 
and  his  total  disregard  of  hours,  that  he  lived  so 
long  as  he  did.  He  told  me  that  he  had  had  an 
affection  of  the  lungs  from  his  boyhood. 


ADDENDA  ET  CORRIGENDA. 


P.  16.  The  full  title  of  Mr.  Rogers's  earliest  publi 
cation  is  An  Ode  to  Superstition  with  some  other  Poems. 
The  small  pieces  annexed  to  the  Ode  are,  lines  "  To  a 
Lady  on  the  Death  of  her  Lover,"  « The  Sailor,"  "  A 
Sketch  of  the  Alps  at  Day-break,"  and  "  A  Wish."  The 
first  of  these  Mr.  Rogers  thought  unworthy  of  preserva 
tion  :  but  it  may  be  subjoined  here : — 

"  To  a  Lady  on  the  Death  of  her  Lover. 

({ Hail,  pensive,  pleasing  Melancholy,  hail ! 
Descend,  and  woo,  with  me,  the  silent  shade ; 
The  curfew  swings  its  sound  along  the  gale, 
And  the  soft  moonlight  sleeps  in  every  glade. 

She  comes,  she  comes  !  through  **'s  dusky  grove, 
In  mild  Eliza's  form,  I  see  her  come  ! 
Mourning  with  all  the  widow's  vows  of  love 
Her  Henry's  summons  to  his  long,  long  home. 

But  hark  !  from  yon  bright  cloud  a  voice  she  hears ! 
'  No  more,  fond  maid,  from  social  pleasures  fly : 
'  I'm  sent  from  heaven  to  smile  away  thy  tears, 
'  For  Henry  shares  the  triumphs  of  the  sky. 


336  ADDENDA    ET    CORRIGENDA. 

'  He's  gone  before  but  to  prepare  for  thee  ; 

1  And  when  thy  soul  shall  wing  its  willing  flight, 

'  His  kindred  soul,  from  all  its  fetters  free, 

1  Will  spring  to  meet  thee  in  the  realms  of  light. 

'  Know,  ye  shall  then,  with  mutual  wonder,  trace 
'  Each  little  twinkling  star  in  yon  blue  sphere, 
'  Explore  what  modes  of  being  people  space, 
'  And  visit  worlds  whose  laws  he  taught  thee  here. 

'  Go,  act  an  angel's  part,  be  misery's  friend ; 
'  Go,  and  an  angel's  feelings  shalt  thou  gain. 
'  Each  grateful  spirit  o'er  thy  couch  shall  bend, 
c  And  whisper  peace,  when  flattery's  voice  is  vain. 

'  Wake  from  thy  trance.     Can  virtue  sink  in  sighs  ? 
'  When  darkness  frowns,  she  looks  beyond  the  tomb. 
'  Memory  and  Hope,  like  evening  stars,  arise, 
'  And  shed  their  mingled  rays  to  gild  the  gloom. 

( Keligion  speaks.     She  bids  thy  sorrows  cease : 
'  With  gratitude  enjoy  what  God  has  given. 
'  Religion  speaks.     She  points  the  path  to  peace : 
'  Attend  her  call  to  happiness  and  heaven.'  " 

P.  18,  note.  Dele  the  sentence — "  One  or  two  songs," 
&c. 

P.  175,  176.  For  «  Marley  "  read  «  Marlay."— He 
was  successively  Bishop  of  Clonfert  and  Bishop  of  Water- 
ford. 


INDEX  TO  RECOLLECTIONS 


THE  TABLE-TALK  OF  SAMUEL  KOGEKS. 


ADAIR,  Sir  Robert,  97. 

Adams,  106. 

Addington,  109. 

Addison,  49. 

Adventurer,  The,  96. 

Africanus,  Scipio,  174. 

Aikin,  81. 

Alexis,  290. 

Allen,  201. 

Alvanley,  Lord,  163,  213,  214. 

Anspach,  Margravine  of,  127. 

Antonio,  Marc,   154. 

Ariosto,  91,  255. 

Art  Union,  The,  156. 

Aston,  31,  32,  33. 

Auger,  172. 

BACON,  156. 

Baillie,  Joanna,  228. 

Baber,  283,  284. 

Banks,  156. 

Bankes,  288. 

Bannister,  8. 

Barbauld,  Mrs.  81,  95,  179,  180, 

241. 

Barre,  248. 
Barry,  88. 
Bath,  Lord,  214. 
Bathurst,  Lord,  25,  265,  266. 
15 


Bathurst,  Lady,  26. 

Beattie,  40,  44. 

Beauclerk,  40. 

Beaumont,  Sir  George,  8,  31,  32, 

33,  188. 
Beccaria,  257. 

Beckford,  214,  215,  216,  217. 
Bedford,  Francis  Duke  of,  83. 
Beechy,  Sir  William,  153. 
Beloe,  134,  141. 
Bentinck,  Lord  William,  100. 
Beranger,  253. 
Berry,  the  Misses,  258. 
Berthier,  269. 
Besborough,  Lady,  70. 
Besborough,  Lord,  135. 
Betty  (the  Young  Roscius),  87. 
Bishop,  115. 
Blair,  45. 
Bloomfield,  Sir   Benjamin,   265, 

266. 

Blount,  Martha,  25. 
Boddington,  41,  42,  125. 
Bolingbroke,  Lord,  25,  95. 
Bon-mots,  118. 
Borghese  collection  of  pictures, 

153. 

Bossuet,  49. 
Boswell,  10,  19. 


338 


INDEX    TO    THE    RECOLLECTIONS. 


Bosville,  128. 

Bowles,  221,  258,  259 

Bowles,  Mrs.,  259. 

Boyce,  Miss,  230. 

Brome,  Lord,  143. 

Brougham,  Lord,  234. 

Buckingham,  Duchess  of,  266. 

Buffon,  49. 

Buonaparte,  86,  93,  288.       (See 

Napoleon.) 

Buonaparte,  Lucien,  269. 
Burdett,  Sir  Francis,  128. 
Burke,  19,  20,  66,  78,  79,  80,  82, 

83,  99,  173,  270,  271. 
Burnet,  88. 
Burns,  46. 
Butler,  112. 
Byron,  Lord,  192,  209,  222,  228, 

229,  230,  231,  232,  233,  234, 

235,  236,  237,  238,  239.  240, 

24],  281. 

CAESAR,  Julius,  93,  174,  269. 
Campbell,  Lady  Charlotte,  263. 
Campbell,  Thomas,  28,  207,  228, 

238,  250,  251,  252. 
Canning,  159,  160,  161. 
Canova,  156,  270. 
Canterbury,  Lord,  286. 
Carlisle,  Lord,  72,  177. 
Caroline,     Queen,     263.       (See 

Wales,  Princess  of.) 
Gary,  282,  283,  284. 
Castlereagh,  Lord,  189,  256. 
Catherine,  Empress,  103,  104. 
Chantrey,  Sir  Francis,  156,  157, 

158,  192; 
Charade,  255. 
Charlotte,  Queen,  75,  261. 
Charlotte,  Princess,  265,  266. 
Chatham,  Lord,  100,  132. 
Chesterfield,  Lord,  118. 
Churchill,  139. 
Clairvoyance,  290. 
Clarence,    Duke    of,   260.     (See 

William  the  Fourth.) 
Claude,  155,  188. 
Cleopatra,  174. 


Cline,  96,  127,  129. 

Clive,  Lord,  62. 

Cocked  Hats,  7. 

Coleridge,   150,   202,   203,  204, 

205,  206,  282. 
Collins,  109,  202. 
Colman,  248. 
Coloseum  in  the  Regent's  Park, 

190. 

Combe,  112, 113,  114,  115, 187. 
Condorcet,  41. 
Congreve,  95. 
Cooke,  136. 
Cork,  Lady,  105,  287. 
Corneille,  49. 
Cornwallis,  Lord,  143. 
Courtenay,  36. 

Cowper,  28,  96.  134,  135,  136, 
Crabbe,  163,  245,  246,  247. 
Credi,  158. 
Crewe,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  afterwards 

Lord  arid  Lady,  23,  63,  64,  80, 

99,  172,  218. 

Crowe,  223,  224,  225,  226,  227. 
Cumberland,  Duke  of,  102. 
Cumberland,  Eichard,  136,  137. 
Curran,  158,  159. 
Cuyp,  153. 

D'ALKVIBERT,   123. 

Dance,  21. 

Dannecker,  157. 

Darwin,  180. 

D'Arblay,  Madame,  179,  192. 

Dawson,  Mrs.,  248. 

Deaths  of  friends  in  newspapers, 

199. 

Delille,  48. 
Derby,  Lord,  198. 
Devonshire,  Georgiana,  Duchess 

of,  190,  191,  25'0. 
Devonshire,  William,  fifth  Duke 

Of,  191. 

Dino,  Duchess  di,  253. 
D'Israeli,  1'9. 

Doria  collection  of  pictures,  153. 
Douglas,  106. 
Drummond,  Sir  William,  261. 


INDEX    TO    TIIK    RECOLLECTIONS. 


339 


Dryden,  29,  30,  31,  88,  89,  221. 
Dudley,  Lord,    184,  262.     (See 

Ward.} 

Duels,  212,  213,  214. 
Dundas,  110,  144. 
Dunmore,  Lady,  177. 
Dunmore,  Lord,  143. 
Dunning,  56. 
Durham,  Lord,  254. 
Dyer,  271. 

ELDOX,  Lord,  126,  189. 
Elgin  Marbles,  153. 
Ellenborough,  Lord,  196,  197. 
Ellis,  George,  159. 
Ellis,  Welbore,  63. 
Englefield,  Sir  Henry,  152,  261. 
Erskine,  Lord,    51,  52,  53,   54, 

126,  127,  286. 
Essex,  Lord,  267. 
Este,  58,  59,  142. 
Euripides,  92. 

FARNBOROUGH,  Lord,  21. 

Farren,  Miss,  16. 

Fielding,  227. 

Fincastle,  Lord,  277. 

Fitzpatrick,  10,  65,  73,  104,  105r 
113,  191,  278. 

Flaxman,  156. 

Foote,  100,  101,  102. 

Fordyce,  23. 

Foscolo,  282. 

Fox,  Charles  James,  20,  36,  72, 
73,  74,  75,  76,  77,  78,  79,  80, 
81,  82,  83,  84,  85,  86,  87,  88, 
89,  90,  91,  92,  93,  94,  95,  96, 
97,  98,  99,  100,  104,  142,  248, 
254. 

Fox,  Mrs.,  84,  85,  87,  88,  97, 
105. 

Fox,  General,  84,  85. 

Fox,  Joseph,  201. 

Francis,  Sir  Philip,  272,  273. 

Frere,  16,  159,  192,  203. 

Fuller,  192. 

Fuseli,  198. 


GARRICK,   7,  8,  9,  87,  88,  101, 

106,  107,  136. 
Genlis,  Madame  de,  80,  81. 
George  the  Third,  90,  259,  260. 
George    the  Fourth,    266,    267, 

268.     (See  Wales,  Prince  of.) 
Gerald,  49. 
Gibbon,  66,   77,    78,  115,   134, 

174,  196. 

Gifford,  208,  209,  210,  211. 
Gilpin,  18,  256. 
Giorgione,  155. 
Glenbervie,  Lady,  83. 
Gloucester,  Duchess  of,  16S. 
Glynn,  134. 
Godwin,  248,  249. 
Goethe,  252. 
Goldsmith,  85. 
Gordon,  Jane,  Duchess  of,   143, 

144. 

Gordon,  Lord  George,  182. 
Graham,  Sir  James,  289. 
Grattan,  172,  173,  174,  175. 
Gray,  34,  3f,  36,  37,  38,  91,  160, 

221. 
Grenville,    Lord,   78,    109,    110, 

111,  256. 
Grenville,   Rt.  Hon.  Thomas,  8, 

54,  63,  178,  198. 
Grey,  Lord,  191. 
Guido,  154. 
Gulliver's  Travels,  257. 
Guilford,  Lady,  198. 
Guilford,  Lord,  220,  221. 
Gurwood,  289,  290. 

HADYN,  22. 

Halford,  Sir  Henry,  268. 

Halhed,  67. 

Hamilton,  Alexander,   Duke  of, 

217. 
Hamilton,    Archibald,   Duke  of, 

177. 

Hamilton,  Duchess  of,  214,  217. 
Hamilton,  Lady,  141,  142. 
Hamilton,  Sir  William,  141. 
Hamilton,  William  Gerard,  173. 
Hampden,  Lord,  141. 


34:0 


INDEX    TO    THE    RECOLLECTIONS. 


Hamp stead  Assemblies,  102. 

Hannibal,  174. 

Hare,  101. 

Harington,  Sir  John,  255. 

Harris,  128. 

Hayley,  56,  57,  58. 

Head-dresses  of  the  ladies,  22. 

Helens,  Lord  St.,  103,  104. 

Henderson,  109,  136. 

Herschel,  Sir  John,  196. 

Highwaymen  in  former  days,  198. 

Hippocrates,  94. 

Historians,  the  Greek  and  Latin, 

93,  94. 

Hobhouse,  228,  237. 
Hogarth,  155. 
Holland,  Henry  Lord,  201. 
Holland,  H.  R.  Vassall  Lord,  1, 

27,  57,  71,  82,  137,  202,  256, 

274,  275,  276. 

Holland,  Lady,  96,  272,  273,  274, 

275,  286. 

Homer,  60,  61,  62,  92. 
Hook,  285,  286. 
Hoole,  130. 
Hope,  264. 
Hoppner,  208,  211. 
Horner,  278. 
Horsley,  212. 
Howai'd,  151. 
Howarth,  213. 

Howley,  Bishop,  afterwards  Arch 
bishop,  71,  170,  283. 
Hume,  44,  105,  106,  123,  143. 
Hunt,  236. 
Hunter,  John,  60. 
Hunter,  Mrs.,  46. 
Kurd,  101. 

INCHBALD,  Mrs.,  243,  244. 
Ireland,  curses  of,  199. 
Irishmen,    Three,   behaviour  of, 

189. 
Isabey,  269. 

JACKSON,  John,  157. 
Jackson,  Dr.  Cyril,  161. 


Jeffrey,  Lord,  277,  278,  280. 
Jekyll,  105. 

Jersey,  Lady,  193,  230,  264,  265. 
Johnson,   9,  10. 
Jorda. ,  Mrs.,  64. 
Jortin,  49. 

Josephine,  Empress,  269. 
Junius's  Letters,   173,   270,    271, 
272. 


KEMBLE,  87,  151, 186,  187,  188. 

Kenyon,  Lord,  196. 

Kippis,  43,  133. 

Knight,  60,  202. 

Knighton,  Sir  William,  267. 

Knowles,  285. 

Kosciusko,  51. 

LAFAYETTE,  41. 

Lamartine,  253. 

Lamb,  Lady  Caroline,  231,  232. 

Lancaster,  200. 

Lane,  138. 

Lansdowne,  Lord,  57,  58,  137. 

Laurence,  Dr.,  20,  78,  270. 

Laurence,  Sir  Thomas,  154,  155, 

158,  183,  184,  185,  267. 
Lawless,  24. 
Legge,  159. 
Leopold,  Prince,  266. 
Lewis,  163,  164. 
Lindsay,  Lady  Charlotte,  261. 
Lionardo,  154. 
Liston,  253. 

Living  like  brothers,  182. 
Lonsdale,  Lord,  189,  206,  207. 
Loughborough,  Lord,  107. 
Luc  an,  Lady,  10. 
Lunardi,  84. 

Luttrell,  30,  53,  233,  276. 
Lyttelton,  George  Lord,  95,  118. 
Lyttelton,  Thomas  Lord,  95,  118, 

119. 


MACK,  268. 
Mackenzie,  44,  45,  46. 


INDEX    TO    THE    RECOLLECTIONS. 


341 


Mackintosh,  Sir  James,  48,  49, 
85,  194,  195,  196,  204,  251, 
271,  276,  283. 

Macleane,  38. 

Macready,  285. 

Mall,  The,  11. 

Malmesbury,  Lord,  128. 

Malone,  79,  270. 

Maltby,  9,  17,  108. 

Malthus,  194. 

Mansel,  39. 

Manzoni,  257. 

Marivaux,  47,  48. 

M'arlay,  175,  176. 

Marmontel,  81,  121. 

Martindale,  190. 

Mary,  Queen,  26. 

Mason,  17,  35,  39. 

Massinger,  90. 

Matthias,  38,  133,  134,  135. 

Melbourne,  Lord,  284. 

Melville,  Lady,  220,  221. 

Melville,  Lord,  220. 

Metastasio,  90. 

Mickle,  95. 

Middleton,  49,  172. 

Milton,  90,  128,  149,  150,  194, 
221,  227. 

Mitford,  137. 

Moliere,  49. 

Monboddo,  Lord,  50. 

Mousey,  211,  212. 

Montagu,  Lady  M.  W.,  39. 

Moore,  Sir  John  Henry,  46,  47. 

Moore,  Thomas,  68,  69, 158,  160, 
221,  227,  228,  233,  276,  277, 
278,  279,  280,  281,  282. 

Morris,  250. 

Murat,  274. 

Murphy,  100, 101, 106,  107,  108. 

NAPLES,  Queen  of,  274. 
Napoleon,  268,  269,  270.  (See 

Buonaparte.} 
Nash,  102. 

National  Gallery,  153. 
Nelson,  Lord,  141,  142. 
New  publications,  199. 


North,  Lord,  63,  78,  83,  248. 
Northcote,  21. 

O'COIGLY,  48. 

Ogle,  69. 
Oglethorpe,  10. 
Orde,  Mrs.,  216. 
Ottley,  158. 

PAINTERS,  living,  155. 
Paley,  91,  117. 

Pamela  (Lady   Edward  Fitzge 
rald,)  67,  80. 

Panshanger,  pictures  at,  153. 
Parr,  48,  49,  62,  63. 
Pascal,  49. 
Pearson,  129. 
Peel,  Sir  Robert,  247,  248,  284, 

289. 

Pepys,  Sir  William  Weller,  7. 
Petrarch,  91. 

Piozzi,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  16,  45. 
Pitt,  George  (Lord  Rivers),  54, 

55. 
Pitt,  William,   78,   79,  82,  109, 

110,  111,  112,  143. 
Places  given  away  by  Govern 
ment,  176. 
Plays,  new,  253. 
Poole,  264. 
Pope,  24,  25,  26,  27,  28,  29,  38, 

91. 
Porson,  79,  108,   134,  217,  218, 

219. 

Portland,  Duke  of,  83. 
Poussin,  155,  188. 
Praising  children,  227. 
Price,  Dr.,   4,  5,  6,    7,  43,  106, 

152. 

Price,  Major,  259,  260. 
Price,  Sir  Uvedale,  75,  113,  114. 
Princesses,     the,     daughters    of 

George  the  Third,  261. 
Prior,  247. 
Priestley,  121,  122. 
Pronunciation  of  Words,  248. 

QUIN,  31. 


342 


INDEX    TO    THE    RECOLLECTIONS. 


RACINE,  49,  222. 

Racine,  the  younger,  222. 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  95. 

Ranelagh,  11. 

Raphael,  153,  154. 

Rat,  Ij)rd  Howth's,  167. 

Rembrandt,  155. 

Reunell,  134. 

Revolution,  the  French,  17(5. 

Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  18,  19,  20, 

21,  22,  77,  86,  155. 
Richardson,  Joseph,  64. 
Richardson,  Samuel,  180. 
Richmond,  Duke  of,  82. 
Richmond,  Duchess  of,  240. 
Robertson,  43,  44,  45,  88. 
Robinson,  Mrs.,  142. 
Robinson  Crusoe,  257. 
Rochefoucauld,  Duke  de  la,  41. 
Rogers,  Samuel : 

anecdotes    of   his    childhood, 
boyhood,  youth,  &£.,  passim. 

his  Scribbler,  11. 

his  Ode  to  Superstition,  16. 

his  Captivity,  16. 

his  lines  To  the  Gnat,  16. 

his  Pleasures  of  Memory,  17,  18. 

his  Human  Life,  18,  173,  174. 
244. 

his  Italy,  18. 
.  his  Vintage  of  Burgundy,  18. 

his  contribution  to  an  article 
wThe  Edinburgh  Review,  283. 
Romney,  63. 
Rose,  244,  255,  256. 
Roslin,  Lady,  254. 
Rousseau,  105. 
Rubens,   155. 
Russell,  Lord  John,  289. 
Russell,  Thomas,  170,  171. 
Rutland,  Duke  of,  245. 
Rutland,  Duchess  of,  245. 


SACCIII,  86. 

Sargent,  56. 

Salisbury,  Lady,  249,  250. 

Sallust,  181. 


I  Scott,  Sir  Walter,  69,  192,  193, 
194,  206,  237,  247,  254,  256, 
280. 

Scriptures,  English  version  of, 
220. 

Seaforth,  Lord,  220. 

Segur,  -104. 

Selwyn,  201. 

Shakespeare,    38,    92,  95,    149, 

150,  200,  219,  221,  281. 
Sharp,  1,  17,  130, 131,  195. 
Shelburne,  Lord,  121,  177. 
Shelley,  235,  236. 

Sheridan,  Richard  Brinsley,  31, 
63,  64,  65,  66,  67,  68,  69,  70, 
71,  73,  78,  80,  118,  186,  190, 
193,  227. 

Sheridan,  Mrs.,  first  wife  of  R.  B. 
S.,  71. 

Sheridan,  Mrs.,  second  wife  of 
R.  B.  S.,  230. 

Sheridan,  Mrs.,  mother  of  R.  B. 
S.,  90. 

Sheridan,  Thomas,  49. 

Siddons,  Mrs.,  58,  87,  109,  136, 

151,  185,  186,  187,  200,  244. 
Skeleton  in  the  (Jhurch-porch,  The, 

164. 

Smith,  Adam,  43,  44,  45. 
Smith,  John,  214. 
Smith,  Robert,  181,  194. 
Smith,  Sydney,  286,  287,  288. 
Smith,  William,  81,  82. 
Soame,  17. 
Sonnet- writing,  207. 
Sophocles,  92. 

Southey,  204,  205,  220,  222, 289 
Spencer,  Lady,  10. 
Spencer,  Lord,  8,  54. 
Spencer,  Lord  Robert,  162. 
Spencer,  William,  218,  277. 
Spenser,  Edmund,  205. 
St.  John,  113. 

Stael,  Madame  de,  232,  250,  251. 
Standard  novels,  138. 
Stanhope,  Lady  Hester,  253. 
Stanley,  Lord,  289. 
Steevens,  134. 


INDEX   TO   THE   RECOLLECTIONS. 


343 


Stella,  Swift's,  172. 

Sterne,  114. 

Stone,  John,  80. 

Stone,   William,   144,    145,  146, 

147,  148,  149. 
Stothard,  110. 
Stowell,  Lord,  142,  143. 
Sueur,  Le,  86. 
Surrey,  Lord,  95. 
Sutherland,  Duchess-Countess  of, 

262. 

Swift,  50. 
Sylph,  The,  190. 
TACITUS,  181. 
Talleyrand,   80,   253,  268,  269, 

270. 

Tankerville,  Lord,  73,  198. 
Tarleton,  248. 

Temple-Bar,  rebels'  heads  on,  2. 
Thanet,  Lord,  162. 
Thurlow,   Lord   Chancellor,   52, 

53,  56. 

Thurlow,  Edward  Lord,  279. 
Tickell,  Richard,  63,  64,  71,  72. 
Tickell,  Thomas,  96. 
Tierney,  82. 

Tight  lacing  of  the  ladies,  23. 
Tooke,  56,  81,   122,    123,   124, 

125,  126,  127,  128,  129. 
Topham,  58. 
Townley,  182,  183. 
Townshend,  Lord  John,  65. 
Tree,  Miss  (Mrs.  Bradshaw),  276. 
Trelawney,  235,  236. 
Trotter,  97. 
Turner,  155. 
Turton,  129. 

UMBRELLAS,  40. 
Usher,  207. 

VERNON,  132. 
Virgil,  94,  205. 
Voltaire,  44,  48,  75,  91. 


WAKEFIELD,  134,  140,  141. 
Wales,  Prince  of,   52,   53,  141, 

142,  161,  191,  260,  264,  265 

266.      (See  George  the  Fourth.') 
Wales,  Princess  of,  261,  262,  263. 

(See  Caroline,  Queen.) 
Walpole,  134. 
Warburton,  26. 

Ward,  151.     (See  Dudley,  Lord.) 
Warton,  Joseph,  133. 
Warton,  Thomas,  133,  134. 
Washington,  172. 
Webb,  56. 
Wellington,   Duke  of,    82,   268, 

288,  89,  290. 
Wesley,  120. 
West,  Richard,  38,  39. 
West,  Benjamin,  208. 
Wewitzer,  65. 
Whyte,  Lydia,  70. 
Wilberforce,  82,  112. 
Wilkes,  42,  233. 
William  the  Third,  26,  172. 
William  the  Fourth,  260.     (See 

Clarence,  Duke  of.) 
Williams,  Helen  Maria,  50. 
Wilson,  153. 

Windham,  75,  86,  96,  164. 
Winter  in  London,  A,  191. 
Wolcot,  139. 
Woodfall,  271. 
Words  twisted,  &c.,  43. 
Wordsworth,    William,    37,    88, 

138,  150,  170,  203,  204,  205, 

206,  207,  222,  282. 
Wordsworth,  Miss,  205,  206. 
World,  The,  96. 

YORK,  Duke  of,  53,  66,  161,  162, 
265,  266. 

York,  Duchess  of,  162,  163,  164. 

Young,  34. 

Youth  always  appearing  beauti 
ful  to  the  old,  138. 


IKDEX  TO  POKSONIANA. 


ASH,  304. 

BABINGTON,  333. 
Baker,  Sir  George,  296. 
Banks,  303,  317,  318,  321. 
Barker,  315. 
Bentley,  322. 
Bryant,  303. 
Burgess,  321. 
Burney,  307,  315,  316. 
Byron,  Lord,  330. 

CARTER,  Mrs.,  326. 
Cogan,  300. 
Coray,  322. 
Cumberland,  314. 

DAVY,  317,  333. 
Douglas,  303. 

EGKRTON,  302. 
Elgin,  Lord,  320. 

Fox,  318. 

GIBBON,  302,  303. 
Goodall,  296. 
Cosset,  326' 
Gurney,  300,  301. 


HEATHCOTE,  301. 
Herbert,  323. 
Holland,  Lord,  318. 
Holmes,  321. 
Hoppner,  298,  299. 
Horsley,  314. 

JENNINGS,  304. 
Johnson,  326. 

KIDD,  321. 
LARCH  ER,  322. 

MACKINTOSH,  Sir  James,  318. 
Maltby,  William,  passim. 
Maltby,  Bishop,  304,  323. 
Maltby,  Mr.  brother  to  the  Bish 
op,  299,  319. 
Markland,  322. 
Matthias,  321. 
Musgrave,  326. 

PALEY,  304. 

Parr,  313,  314,  315. 

Pearson,  322. 

Perry,  320. 

Porson,  Eichard,  passim. 

Porteus,  321. 


34:6 


Postlethwaite,  308,  309. 
Pretyman  (afterwards  Tomline). 

319. 
Priestley,  314. 

RAINE,  301,  317. 
Rogers,  318,  319. 

SHEFFIELD,  Lord,  329. 
Shipley,  296. 
Southey,  330. 


INDEX    TO    PORSONIANA. 

Stephens,  326. 


TAYLOK,  323. 

Tooke,  297,  298,  314. 
Tyrwhitt,  322. 

VILLOISON.  320. 

WAKEFIELD,  316,  317. 
Wilkes,  329. 


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WHOM  HAVE  PRONOUNCED  JOHN  PHCBNIX  "THE  GREAT  WIT 
OF  THE  AGE." 

(From  the  mica  Herald.} 

These  Sketches  are  characterized  by  much  humor,  and  will  be  found  highly  entertain 
ing.  The  illustrations— especially  the  frontispiece— are  worthy  of  Cruikshank. 

(From  the  Boston  Evening  Traveller.') 

The  volume  will  make  the  most  serious  reader  shake  his  sides  at  its  mirthful  delinea 
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(From  the  Boston  TelegrapJi.) 

These  Sketches  are  essentially  in  Punch's  vein— more  so  than  any  other  American 
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(From  the  New  Orleans  Delta.) 

Who  is  John  Phcenix?  We  surmise  that  he  is  a  reproduction,  in  human  form,  from 
the  ashes  of  Foote,  or  Mathews,  or  Lamb,  or  some  other  great  master  of  English  burlesque. 
*  *  *  \ye  advise  all  who  like  fresh  and  genuine  humor  to  prepare  their  money  to  pur 
chase  an  early  copy.  "  Doesticks"  was  but  a  first  imitator  of  John  Phcenix,  who  has  origi 
nated  a  school  of  the  hyperbolical  and  burlesque. 

(From  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger.) 

A  very  dangerous  volume  to  be  generally  circulated,  inasmuch  as  immoderate  laughter 
sometimes  ends  in  convulsions,  and  we  have  seen  no  such  provocative  of  explosive  inirtli 
in  this  our  day  and  generation.  John  Phoenix  is  the  very  genius  of  fun,  and  elicits  merri 
ment  from  the  driest  subjects.  We  can  commend  his  Sketches  and  Burlesques  to  all  per 
sons  of  strong  mind  and  vigorous  constitution,  who  desire  to  be  amused;  but  weak  natures 
should  be  careful  how  they  venture  upon  them. 

(From  the  Baton  Eouge  Comet.) 

Phcenix  has  taken  his  Sketches  from  life,  ^n  that  great  fructifying  region  of  Uncle  Sam  a 
domains  bounded  on  the  West  by  the  Pacific  and  our  celestial  (very)  cousins  in  the  an 
tipodes,  where  the  bottoms  of  the  rivers  are  paved  with  the  baser  metals,  and  the  moun 
tains  made  of  gold.  A  fig  for  your  "  Fern  Leaves"  by  the  side  of  the  book  of  John  Phoenix, 
with  its  motto,  "  In  the  name  of  the  Prophet — Figs.  John  Phcenix,  besides  being  a  satir 
ist,  is  a  philosopher.  His  satire  flows  naturally  and  gently  as  "Sweet  Afton,"  cutting  off 
weak-kneed  humanity  at  the  sockets,  and  washing  all  down  into  the  great  ocean  of  jovi 
ality — which  is  the  "hatters"  so  often  spoken  of,  where  politicians  and  priests,  lawyers  and 
loafers,  gentlemen  of  the  Peace  Society  and  gentlemen  of  the  war  department,  who  have 
snuffed  the  cdor  of  battle  afar  off,  meet  on  a  perfect  platform  of  equality,  to  laugh  at  the 
several  follies  and  deceptions  they  have  each  practised  upon  a  credulous  world  in  the  great 
nii«>Hiits1wle  of  humanity. 


I).  APPLETON  &  GO: 8  PUBLICATIONS. 

Songs  and  Ballads  of  the  American 
Revolution. 

LOYAL  AND  WHIG.    WITH  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

BY    FRANK    MOORE. 

4  More  solid  things  do  not  show  the  complexion  of  the  times  as  well  as  Ballads  and 
Libels."— Selden. 

1  \ol.  12mo.;  with  two  illustrations  by  Darley.  Price  $1. 

(Extract from  Editor's  Preface.) 

This  volume  presents  a  selection  from  the  numerous  productions,  in  verse,  which  ap 
peared  during  the  war  of  the  American  Revolution.  Many  of  them  are  taken  from  the 
newspapers  and  periodical  issues  of  the  time,  others  from  original  ballad,  sheet,  and  broad 
sides",  while  some  have  been  received  from  the  recollections"  of  a  few  surviving  soldiers, 
who  beard  and  sang  them  amid  the  trials  of  the  camp  and  the  field. 

A'&irly  every  company  had  its  "smart  one,"  a  poet  who  beguiled  the  weariness  of  the 
march  or  the  encampment,  by  his  minstrelsy,  grave  or  gay,  and  the  imperfect  fragments 
ivhicb  *.urvivo  to  u«,  provoke  our  rtgret  that  so  few  of  them  have  been  preserved. 

(From  the  Boston  Evening  Transcript.) 

It  k  i  curiosity  of  literature,  a  patriotic  treasury  of  quaint,  yet  honest  verse,  an  antiqua 
rian  geiu\  a  native  and  primitive  fruit — in  short,  a  delectable  book  for  the  curious  in  litera 
ture,  and  rhe  lovers  of  the  native  muse,  in  her  rude  infancy.  The  notes  indicate  patient 
research,  ind  give  historical  value  to  the  work.  *  *  *  The  verses  to  the  memory  of 
Hale  are  La:Hirnfully  graphic;  and,  as  we  take  up  the  book,  fresh  from  Irving's  page,  it 
seems  to  trvrport  us  to  hamlet  and  bivouac,  and  reproduce  the  life  of  the  people,  when 
the  events  ci  the  Revolution  were  gradually  unfolding. 

(From  the  Albany  Morning  Express.) 

The  real  hA  of  a  people  may  be  found  in  its  songs  and  ballads.  The  prosaic  pen  of  the 
historian  gives*  toly  an  outline  of  the  picture  ;  the  true  color  and  complexion  of  the  times 
are  preserved  iu  Uiose  traditionary  legends  and  songs,  which  conceived  on  the  impulse  of 
the  moment,  ins)J»ed  by  the  time  and  the  occasion,  and  the  absorbing  scenes  of  heroic 
action,  are  handed  1o\vn  from  father  to  son,  and  cling  to  the  very  heart  of  the  people.  Mr, 
Moore's  collection  has  been  long  needed,  and  is  a  valuable  contribution  to  our  national 
literature. 

(From  the  Criterion.) 

Mr.  Moore  has  A  ine  a  real  service  to  the  country,  not  only  in  a  literary,  but  a  historical 
point  of  vew;  and  ao  library  or  private  collection,  of  any  pretension  or  value,  can  he 
without  this  volume  of  poetical  history.  Moore's  collections  of  the  BALLADS  AND  Soxr.s 
OF  THE  REVOLUTION  must  fill  the  same  place  in  the  literature  of  this  country  that  is  filled 
in  Great  Britain  by  SCOTT'S  MINSTKELSY  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  BOKDEK. 

(From  the  Transcript  and  Eclectic.) 

The  work  fills  a  void  in  our  national  and  historical  literature ;  and  also  addresses  iteelf 
especially  to  the  tastes  and  comprehension  of  the  masses  of  the  people. 

(From  Correspondent  of  Boston  Post) 

1  regard  this  volume  as  an  exceedingly  valuable  contribution  to  our  historic  literature. 
*  #  *"  With  the  rude  effusions  here  first  collected,  was  born  American  liberty  ;  and  the 
harp  of  Homer  or  Milton  could  not  have  been  tuned  to  a  nobler  resolve  than  that  which 
cHlled  them  forth. 

(From  the  N.  Y.  Entr1  Acte.) 

Mr.  Moore  has  done  for  his  country  what  Herder  did  for  the  Jewish  nation — what 
r.'icthe  and  Schiller  labored  to  perform  for  Germany,  early  in  the  hist  century — namely,  to 
LTVC  to  the  land  of  his  birth  a  ballad  literature;  not,  indeed,  created  by  his  own  genius, 
but  collected  from  among  those  emanations  which  were  called  forth  when  the  forefathers 
of  our  country  were  upon  the  battle-field,  in  defence  of  human  rights,  and  with  arms  in 
their  hands.  The  fruits  of  his  labors  will  be  received  with  enthusiastic  delight.  His  work 
breathes  of  Bunker  Hill,  of  Concord,  and  Lexington.  Its  poetic  productions  are  associated 
with  that  struggle,  which  is  among  the  most  noble  in  history — American  Independence. 
Ami  every  American  will  read  it. 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

Important  New  Publications. 

I. 

The    Confidential     Correfpondence    of 
Napoleon  Bonaparte 

WITH    HIS     BROTHER    JOSEPH. 

DELECTED  AND  TRANSLATED,  WITH  EXPLANATORY  NOTES.  FROM  THE 
"  MEMOIKES  DIT  EOI  JOSEPH." 

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No  book  has  yet  appeared  which  furnishes  so  correct  a  portraiture  of  the  character  of 
Napoleon.  He  was  in  almost  daily  communication  wit]j  his  brother  Joseph,  from  his  first 
appointment  as  the  General  of  Brigade,  down  to  the  16th  of  June,  1815. 

"We  cannot  form  a  correct  idea  of  the  character  of  the  great  mind  that  swayed  over 
nearly  the  whole  Continent  of  Europe,  without  reading  these  Letters,  which,  unlike  official 
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smallest  tiling.  A  distinguished  critic  has  observed  in  examining  the  early  sheets,  that 
"  Biographers  will  have  to  write  their  biographies  of  Napoleon  over  again." 


The  Irish  Abroad  and  at  Home, 
AT  THE  COURT  AM)  IN  THE  CAMP: 

WITH      SOUVENIRS      OF      "  THE      BRIGADE,"      REMINISCENCES     OF     AN 

EMIGRANT    MILESIAN. 
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(From,  the  Portland  Advertiser.} 

An  interesting  book,  half  historical,  half  anecdotal,  and  wholly  Irish  in  subject,  if  not 
In  handling.  It  contains  sketches  of  some  of  Ireland's  greatest  minds,  as  well  as  observant 
notes  of  affairs  in  France  during  the  n-ign  of  Napoleon.  Much  information  of  a  curious 
nature  is  given  respecting  Irish  laws  and  customs. 

(From  the  Boston  TelegrapJi.} 

We  notice  that  this  work  is  praised  highly,  and  we  have  examined  it  sufficiently  to  find 
that  it  is  very  sprightly  and  entertaining.  The  title-page  sufficiently  indicates  the  general 
character  of  the  book,  but  it  does  not  show  how  finely  the  author  has  treated  the  subject, 
which  he  makes  attractive  by  his  brilliant  sketches  of  character,  incidents,  and  adventure. 
To  collect  the  materials  for  this  work  required  much  time  and  labor,  and  to  work  them  up 
tn  this  style  required  much  brightness  of  Intellect  and  fineness  of  enltniv. 


1).  APPLETON  &  CO:S  PUBLICATIONS. 

Important  New  Publications. 

I. 

Village  and  Farm   Cottages. 

THE  REQUIREMENTS  OF  AMERICAN  VILLAGE  HOMES 
CONSIDERED  AND  SUGGESTED, 

With  Designs  for  such  Houses  of  Moderate  Cost. 

BY  HENRY  W.  CLEVELAND,  WM.  BACKUS,  &  SAML.  D.  BACKUS. 
]  vol.  8vo.     Illustrated  with  100  Engravings.     Price  $2. 

(From  the  N.  Y.  Evening  Post.) 

The  work  is  professedly  intended  for  that  numerous  class  who  cannot  afford  to  build 
expensively.  The  design  is  well  carried  put.  We  have  here  some  two  dozen  cottages  and 
farm  houses,  of  various  size,  accommodation,  and  style,  ranging,  in  estimated  cost,  from 
$600  to  $3,000.  These  humble  elevations  are,  for  the  most  part,  simple  and  graceful; 
tastefully  set  off  with  accompaniments  of  shrub  and  tree,  and  show  how  beautiful  rural 
cottages  may  and  ought  to  become. 

The  floor  plans  and  sections  show  that  the  attention  given  to  the  internal  arrangements 
have  been  most  careful  and  judicious.  To  make  communication  easy  between  the  rooms, 
and  yet  to  insure  privacy  and  seclusion,  to  facilitate  the  work  of  a  household  with  few  or 
no  servants,  to  make  the  little  abode  pleasant  to  its  inmates  and  inviting  to  friends,  is 
the  evident,  and,  we  think,  the  successful  intent  of  the  authors.  Working  plans  and  printed 
specifications  for  each  house  can  be  had  at  a  trifling  cost,  upon  application  to  the  architects. 
This  is  a  novel  feature  in  architectural  publications,  and  a  very  judicious  one. 

The  book  contains  many  useful  remarks  and  truly  practical  hints.  Any  person  about 
to  build  may  read  with  profit  the  sections  on  the  choice  of  a  lot,  on  the  adoption  of  a  plan,  on 
(  Hinting,  on  our  forest  timbers,  and  on  the  application  of  principles  to  details. 


II. 

The   Attache   in  Madrid ; 

OR,  SKETCHES  OF  THE  COURT  OF  ISABELLA  II. 

1  vol.  12mo.     368  pages.     $1. 

"  It  is  believed  that  there  is  no  other  book  in  our  language  which  presents  so  good  a  pic 
ture  of  Spain  and  the  Spaniards  as  this  does.  The  author  possesses  the  necessary  qualifi 
cations  for  the  production  of  such  a  work.  The  Spaniards  are  a  proud  people — proud  of 
their  country  and  history— proud  of  their  traditions  and  poetry — proud  of  their  old  romances 
and  chivalry — prcud  of  their  churches  and  their  religion — and  proud  of  their  manners  and 
habits.  With  such  a  nation  the  Attache  could  feel  a  deep  and  sincere  sympathy.  He  was  not 
so  materialistic  as  to  be  haunted  by  the  ghost  of  a  ten-cent-piece  in  the  Palace  (if  the  Escurial. 
He  saw  every  thing,  from  the  private  levee  to  the  public  bull-fight;  from  the  moonlight 
dance  of  Manolas  to  the  regal  balls  of  the  Duchess  d'Alva;  from  the  needle-work  of  the 
S|i;mish  maiden  to  the  glorious  paintings  of  Titian,  Velasquez,  and  Murillo;  and  he  has  put 
upon  paper  all  that  was  worthy  of  record,  which  came  under  his  notice.  But  this  is  not  all. 
lie  has  given  us  a  kind  of  political  history  of  modern  Spain.  His  book  will  make  Spanish 
politics,  and  Spanish  partisanship,  as  familiar  to  the  American  reader  as  the  conchology  of  his 
own  '•  Hards''  and  "  Softs."  The  account  given  of  M.  Soule's  diplomacy,  of  his  heroism,  is  not 
the  least  interesting  chapter  in  the  work;  and  the  description  of  the  Revolution  of  1S48, 
and  of  the  flight  of  Qaeen  Christina  and  of  the  San|Luis  Cabinet,  is  graphic,  instructive,  and 
interesting. 

"  It  is  i-v  ident  that  the  relations  of  the  author  at  thfi  Span' sh  Court  were  at  once  delicate 
and  intimate.'' 


U.  APPLETON  d;  CO:S  PUBLICATIONS. 
JjlGHT    H.ITERATURE,  BY  LADIES   OF   TAL.ENT. 


Juno   Clifford. 


BY  A  LADY. 

1    vol.    12mo.,   cloth,   with   two  plates,  $1,25. 

(From  the  Evening  Traveller.} 

This  is  a  work  of  more  than  ordinary  ability  and  interest.  In  its  conception  tho  plan  it 
certainly  original. 

(From  Vie  N.  E.  Farmer.') 

The  unfolding  of  the  plot,  and  the  delineation  of  the  characters,  evince  talents  of  a  high 
order  ;  and  it  is  evident  that  the  authoress  possesses  a  good  degree  of  skill,  if  not  experience 
in  this  department  of  literature.  We  think  her  work  will  rank  above  the  common  run  of 
novels. 

(From  the  New  Haven  Palladium.} 

This  is  one  of  the  most  fascinating  books  of  the  season,  and  will  doubtless  find  many 
admirers.  It  is  a  story  cf  American  life,  and  most  of  the  scenes  are  laid  in  Boston  and 
New  York.  The  characters  are  painted  in  vivid  colors;  the  proud  and  stately  heroine,  to 
whom  no  more  fitting  name  than  Juno  could  have  been  applied;  her  adopted  son,  Little 
Sunbeam  and  Grace  Atherton  will  not  soon  be  forgotten.  The  style  is  beautiful  and  the  in 
terest  quite  absorbing.  . 

(From  the  True  Flag.} 

The  conceptions  of  character  in  "Juno  Cliiford"  are  almost  unequalled  by  any 
American  woman,  and  the  plot  has  a  straightforward  intensity  and  directness  rarely  found 
in  a  woman's  book.  The  death  :  cenes  are  inimitable,  and  the  love  passages  are  no  sickly 
sentimentalism,  but  the  utterance  of  that  holy  passion  which  outlives  time  and  death. 


LIGHT  AND  DARKNESS 

OR   THE 

Shadow  of  Fate. 

A    STOKY    OF     FASHIONABLE    LIFE, 
BY  A  LADY. 

1  vol.  12mo.,  cloth,  75  cts. 

(From  the  N.  Y.  Z>is2)atch.} 

This  is  a  pleasant  and  graphic  story,  the  scenes  of  which  are  laid  in  the  city 
York.   The  light  and  dark,  or  the  good  and  bad,  of  fashionable  life  are  vividly  intermin 
gled,  and  described  by  a  fertile  and  glowing  pen,  with  much  talent  and  skill. 

(From  the  Philadelphia  City  Item.} 

The  whole  work  is  so  complete,  finished  and  artistic,  that  we  cannot  but  anticipate  ;i 
brilliant  and  successful  career  for  the  writer,  if  she  will  devote  herself  faithfully  to  the  higli 
and  influential  department  of  art  in  which  she  has  made  so  triumphant  a  deliirf. 

(From  Godey's  Lady's  Book.} 

Her  creations  are  all  Hfe-liko ;  her  scenes  natural;  her  personages  such  as  one  meets 
every  day  in  the  haunts  of  fashion  or  domestic  life.  We  read  her  story  believingly,  and  re 
member  the  characters  afterwards  as  old  acquaintances.  To  produce  such  an  effect  upon 
ourself  is  to  give  assurance  of  an  accomplished  artist.  May  this  author  live  to  write  many 
%tories  not  only  of  fashionable,  but  of  all  sorts  of  life,  and  may  we  have  thorn  to  read. 


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